Our Worlds
by Nanosecond
Summary: Steve is taking a break. But some jerks just won't take the hint and quit destroying the world, for once. Now he's running away from something - In fact, he's running away from so many things he's not clear on exactly who, or rather, what he's running away from. He's abysmal at making friends but makes up for it in making enemies. And someone stop the murderous hermit. Please.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Minecraft (if I did, TNT cannons would be craftable).**

* * *

Prologue (Rewritten)

* * *

Notch, mighty King of the Aether (and all other places ), sat on his magnificent golden throne, tugging at his fine beard and-

Was completely bored out of his mind.

Everything seemed to have quieted down. All the supervillains (and the _less_ super villains) of the world was at this minute being deal with by his Elites. All the other Gods were somewhere else doing their own divine business, leaving him on the Aether because someone needed to be on the Aether at all times in case the universe managed to mess itself up (again) and some God or another had to fix it before things got _too_ hazardous (and Jeb doesn't count because he'd rather keep both his eyes on his inventions than the universe). It was so peaceful that Jeb had even stopped blowing the Aether Labs up. Or down. Depends on which direction his experiment was facing (Terra, the Goddess of Earth hates him because she always has to fix the hole in the ground after the explosion).

The one other person in the Aether was Steve, a human. One of the people from Notch's main strike force (his only strike force) whom he liked to call the Elites, just to feel like his warriors were better than anyone else's. Or so Aurorion, the God of ice claimed when he got drunk, which was the majority of the time. Out of embarrassment, Notch had resorted to calling then the Rangers instead. It didn't really work, as the previous name had gotten stuck long ago and didn't seem to be willing to come out.

All the other Elites had been sent out after a villain, or a Mob congregation, or some idiot claiming to be the Devil. There was, of course, the occasional homicidal rabbit, which were also known as the fearsome Killer Bunny.

Steve, though, stayed at the Aether because he was on a break. The Aether was the only place he could take a break safely. The last _three_ times Steve had taken his holiday in the Overworld he had stumbled upon a nest of bandits, discovered a giant zombie, and walked right into the lair of a wannabe mass murderer (he hadn't actually murdered anyone yet). So therefore, he had to spend all his holidays in the Aether.

Talking about his Elites...

Oh yeah, there's still one missing from a few years ago. Katara, was it? She'd gone missing on the way to kill a giant zombie (which were, frankly, more bark than bite. Anyone could kill one with the right weapon. Or just set it on fire). There'd been search parties, of course, though they still haven't got an inkling of where she could've gone. Maybe she'd just run away. If that was the case, Notch really couldn't blame her.

"I'm bored." Notch said aloud. "I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored." It didn't help in the slightest. He almost wished Jeb would blow something up.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Maybe... maybe Steve could find Katara? Steve had an almost uncanny knack for running into trouble when you least expect it, and perhaps Katara was hiding all that time. Search parties are big, and easy to spot for someone who wants to hide. One person, though... Knowing Steve, he'd trip over her and not realize it.

Notch snapped his fingers and a flash of golden light lit up the room, then faded away to reveal a dizzy looking male. He had messy chocolate brown hair down to the nape of his neck that curled slightly at the ends, bright violet eyes, and olive skin. He was actually in his early forties, but due to the Crafter's slower ageing, and the immortality that came with his job, he looked (and acted) like he was eighteen.

"Ah!" Notch said cheerily. "I was just looking for you!"

Steve did some more stumbling around before the dizziness cleared. He rolled his eyes at Notch but otherwise remained silent.

"Sooo, I've found a new place where you can take your holiday, instead of rotting away in the Aether." Notch grinned. "Sylder's quite a nice place, and all you need to do is a little check up, just to make sure the Royal family hasn't started worshipping the Devil and that sort of thing"

Steve groaned. "But I'm absolutely useless at political discussions! Remember last time-"

"I'm sure you'll be fine!" Notch interrupted with a confident smile. "Anyhow, I'll get Jeb to transport you to the Overworld-"

 _BOOM!_

An explosion rocked the palace. Steve lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, yelling something unintelligible.

A few minutes later, a coughing Valkyrie appeared in the doorway, trailing smoke. "My Lord, J-Jeb has requested that you do not send for him at the moment. He is busy rebuilding the Labs" the Valkyrie paused, coughing some more, smoke rising from his nostrils. "He also told me to say... 'It wasn't my fault'."

"... It seems like Jeb won't be joining us today. Very well, you are free to go" Notch dismissed the Valkyrie with a wave of his hand.

"Looks like I will have to teleport you, Steve" Notch said cheerfully. Steve did not feel so cheerful.

Steve gulped. The reason Jeb did the transportation most of the time was because Notch was useless at navigation. On good days, he'd accidentally teleport you to the Nether when you wanted to go to your house. Yes, this is the guy who built the universe from scratch. You'd think he wouldn't get lost as soon as he stepped out of his house.

"Oh, and take a horse with you as well."

* * *

Steve appeared in a flash of golden light- smack dab in the middle of a forest. "Hello, Your Highness" he said sarcastically to a nearby tree. "How are you doing today?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was _obviously not_ in Sylder City (Which was quite fortunate since Steve couldn't outsmart a cookie jar). What was he saying about Notch's amazing navigational skills again?

His horse snorted, and pranced around. Steve scowled. "The only reason I took you along was because you were the last horse in the stables. And the reason for _that_ is because _no one wanted you._ So you'd better behave yourself, Swift"

He could swear he felt Swift rolling his eyes in the dark, even though he couldn't see him.

Wait... It was night time?

Oh _Nether_ , that means-

 _Urrnngh._

Steve whipped around on the horse, trying to pinpoint the groan. Swift refused to budge. Steve cursed, spotting the green undead creature shuffling closer and closer to him just before the stench of rotting flesh hit his nose. He waited for the zombie to come within striking distance.

Closer and closer. Just before it could come close enough to touch the horse, Steve reached inside his Inventory for his weapon and-

Smacked the zombie on the head with a diamond shovel.

Oops. Steve _may_ have forgotten to tidy up his Inventory after the latest adventure.

The zombie stumbled back, disorientated. Steve put the shovel back into his Inventory and reached for his actual weapon.

He ended up with a flint and steel.

Ah well, this would have to do. Steve clicked the flint and steel together a few times and proceeded to set the rotting monstrosity on fire. It did the job quite nicely.

After some bribery, Steve persuaded Swift to gallop towards the brightly lit place that Steve spotted while standing up on the horse's back. He hoped it was Sylder City. If it wasn't, then to hell with Notch's stupid idea.

* * *

The guards at the gates frowned, watching a figure covered in rotten flesh and bone dust ride haphazardly out of the Sylder Forest on a prancing horse that would do better in a dance club.

"...State your name and business" one of them spoke with his hand on his iron sword. He was very obviously trying to keep his face straight.

"Steve. And Notch sent me" the stranger said, dismounting. The guards tensed as he pulled out his sword, showing them the insignia carved on the hilt. The guards relaxed, bowing as they flicked a lever, opening the gates.

"Welcome to Sylder, sir!" They chorused.

Steve sighed. At least he was in the right place _now_.


	2. Introductions

Alex whistled as she whittled away at a piece of wood.

Now, that was a perfectly normal, non-dangerous thing to do (unless you were seriously stupid), as anyone would agree .

Unless you were, of course, doing it outdoors, in the middle of the night, in a particularly thick patch of forest that was near a cave system. Also a place where no one would hear you scream.

Alex, being Alex, was doing exactly that.

Alex wasn't worried. And she definitely wasn't stupid. She could handle monsters just fine. Plus she had a little bit of fire magic and anyone worth their blocks know that fire and mobs don't mix well, at least in the mob's case.

She stopped whistling for a moment to examine her work in the light of her campfire. It was an intricately carved staff, made with obvious skill.

Apparently she found it unsatisfactory, as she went back to her carving and whistling moments later.

A zombie crept up behind her, hoping to take Alex by surprise.

One step. Two steps. Three steps—

Just as the zombie was about to reach her, the back end of Alex's staff swung around and hit the zombie with enough force to knock its head clean off its shoulders.

Alex sighed in annoyance. Now she was going to have to wipe zombie muck off her staff.

She resumed her whistling as she scrubbed zombie blood off the stick with a rag.

The mobs gave her a wide berth that night.

* * *

Steve knew he wasn't going to enjoy his stay as soon as he stepped through the doors to the throne room. The king's smile looked like one of those paste-on ones that you can buy at a shop for two gold nuggets each. The prince (who seemed to be at the same age as Steve) was openly showing his disdain.

"Welcome to Sylder, Steve...?" The king trailed off, looking at Steve.

Steve wasn't the brightest person in the world, but he knew if he said: "Oh, I was raised by Endermen!", his 'holiday' would be even more unpleasant. So he said instead :"Son of none, sir. I was orphaned since birth". The prince snorted. Steve pretended not to notice.

The king said:"Well, Steve. As you know, it is a bit late into the night. I am tired, so we will have our conversations tomorrow. The servants will escort you to your rooms."

The king rose and left, followed by the prince.

Steve stared after them. He inwardly groaned. Next time he has a holiday, he was not going to let Notch plan it.

On the bright side, he got to sleep in a comfortable bed for the first time in months.

* * *

The Ender Dragon roared and lunged at the intruder standing on her obsidian spire. The white-eyed demon/god dived away just in time. Then He performed a jump so far that no mortal would have dreamed of doing onto the next obsidian spire.

Zariah growled in irritation. This had been going on for some time now, and neither of them has gained the upper hand.

She spewed a narrow jet of indigo flames, hot enough to melt bone. This time it was met by a shield of flickering white light. The intruder leapt off the spire and flew around in circles, taunting Her. Zariah shot after Him in pursuit. He flew toward the center spire with the Dragon hot on His heels. Just as He was about to hit the spire, at the last possible moment, He disappeared in a flash of white-blue light and reappeared at the top of the obsidian tower. Zariah tried to stop Herself but She was going too fast. She closed Her eyes and concentrated.

 _Vwoop_. She disappeared in Her own flash of purple light. Just because She was a dragon doesn't mean She couldn't teleport.

She lunged for the white-eyed god again. He somersaulted out of the way. Her claws hit the spot He was, tearing up the obsidian. He dropped off the edge of the tower and landed on the ground far below gracefully and without a sound. The Dragon was there in an instant, leaping at Him with a roar. He back flipped over Her head.

But He didn't see Her tail coming.

Zariah's spiked tail slammed into Him and smashed Him against a pillar so hard that the pillar cracked. He fell to the ground, stunned.

The Dragon leapt at the trapped god, claws and teeth flashing in the half-light—

And met nothing but air.

There was a soft whisper of air and Zariah felt a weight on Her back and a blade at Her throat.

" _How?"_ Zariah stammered out.

Herobrine did a double backflip off Zariah's neck and landed with unnatural grace.

" _Simple._ _An_ _illusion._ " The shadow of a smile flickered across His lips. " _The real me dodged your tail and flew up"._ His lips didn't move while He talked so Zariah knew He was using mindspeech. He preferred that over speaking out loud.

The Ender Dragon snorted. " _Fine. You win this time"._

 _"Correction: I win every time."_

 _"Shut up."_ The Dragon hissed.

 _"Sore loser. Anyway, how's your Dimension doing?"_

 _"Crafters come, crafters die. Sometimes the occasional human or Testificate."_ She paused. " _And the Endermen are scared of me"._

 _"That's fine. Keep it that way. At least they won't try to kill you. Anyway, I'd best be going."_ Herobrine turned to leave.

 _"Why? You don't rule the mobs anymore"._

The demon/god stopped, a dark look flashing across his face.

 _"I have ... other things to attend to"._

Zariah sighed. " _Well, see you soon, then"._

Herobrine nodded and teleported away in a starburst of white-blue light.

Little did he know that he was not going to see her again for a very long time.

 **A/N: As for why I named the Ender Dragon Zariah, you'll find out in later chapters.**

 **~Nanosecond**


	3. Steve Troubles

**A/: If you** **see the word Elenjor,** **well,** **it kinda means 'Minecraftia'. Yeah, I'm re-naming the world of Minecraft. It's just, you know, a bit weird that anyone would name a world 'Minecraftia'. That's just my opinion though. Don't kill me.**

 **I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. I got a bit sick.**

* * *

 _Fallen God, shining bright,_

Two _eyes glowing silver-white._

 _Twin blades like a pair of wings,_

 _Destroying Gods, cities, and slaying Kings._

 _Prince of the Nether, Master of the Night,_

 _Eyes ablaze with white light._

 _Gods hear their names from far away_

 _He does too, no different from they._

 _Just pray to Notch you don't meet him one day,_

 _Because if you're seen, you won't get away._

 _\- Elenjorian Children's Poem_

* * *

Chapter 3

Steve Troubles

A _THUD!_ and a loud yelp reverberated around the palace, waking everyone up.

... Okay, maybe that was a bit exaggerated. Steve wasn't that heavy. And the bed wasn't that far off the ground.

A few moments later, the said idiot stumbled out off his room and proceeded to ask a nearby servant where he would find his much-needed breakfast.

"Your meals will be delivered to your room, sir." The servant replied before hurrying off.

 _Why is everyone in such a hurry here?_ Steve wondered idly. Then he shrugged. He wasn't prepared to think before he gets his food.

He did get his food. Eventually.

* * *

After his much needed breakfast, Steve set off towards the throne room. Better get this done and over with.

Steve wasn't very good with political conversations. There _was_ a reason why he never went to the last Kingdom that he checked up on again. Well, the reason was-

Back to the present.

Steve prepared himself for the worst as he entered the throne room. It was the same set up as the last night, with the king on his throne and the prince beside him. Oh, and don't forget the two-gold-nugget smile.

"Good morning, Steve. I hope you've had a good night's sleep?" without waiting for an answer, the king continued. "I forgot to introduce myself last night. I am King Arndel the Second, and this is my son Prince Tevon." The prince smirked, as if to say _I am a prince and am thus better than you_. Steve wasn't normally a violent person but right now he wanted nothing else in the world but the satisfaction of wiping the smirk off Tevon's face with something like a well-aimed frying pan.

However, to Steve's uttermost regret, he couldn't do it now.

"I am honoured to meet you, sir." Steve replied with a smile so fake that it itched. "Now, onto the important matters." Notch had told him to always ask this particular question first. Steve thought he knew why. "Has the White-Eyed one been sighted here recently?"

The king opened his mouth to answer, but his son beat him to it. "Herobrine, you mean?" Tevon snorted. "Haven't been around for a few decades."

Steve flinched at Tevon's careless use of the evil entity's name. He half expected Herobrine to smash through the roof and blast the prince into tiny bits immediately. But nope, no such luck.

Steve inwardly groaned as the king started on a report of his kingdom for the past twenty years. He would be surprised if he was still alive at the end of this.

* * *

"And that's about it." The king concluded, apparently oblivious to Steve's suffering.

It took all Steve's self-control to stop himself from dancing for joy on the spot. But just as he turned to leave, the king stopped him again.

 _What is it_ this _time?_

"My son has... ah, been wondering when Notch would come to pick him for his Elites." He saw the expression on Steve's face and hurriedly continued:" Tevon can wait for however long it takes, of course."

Steve thought about it for a moment. He couldn't imagine having to work with Tevon around. Luckily for him, he couldn't remember seeing Tevon's name anywhere on Notch's extremely short recruitment list. So that's exactly what he told them.

"Are you sure?" Asked the king. Meanwhile, his precious son is starting to look more and more like a overripe tomato.

"Notch only takes the ones he deems worthy." Steve replied with a shrug.

"But Tevon is a hero!" The king protested. "He slew the giant zombie that was around a year ago!"

 _Why is he arguing with me? I'm not the one who decides this sort of stuff. He should be complaining to Notch._ Then Steve changed his mind. _No, I guess he has a point there. Arguing with Notch is like arguing with a_ _deadbush once He has His mind set on something._

"True heroes live in their hearts, not just their deeds." Steve replied firmly, remembering what Notch had said when He Chose him.

"But you're only seventeen and you're in the Rangers! I'm twenty-one!" The prince glared at him like a petulant child.

 _So he_ is _human, and not a Crafter._ Steve mused to himself. _He's still older than he looks, though. I though he was eighteen. Or maybe I'm just really bad at judging human ages. Probably because I'm really bad at judging._

"I'm twenty-five, actually. I'm a Crafter." Steve replied patiently, like a grown-up talking to a kid. "I _did_ get Chosen when I was seventeen, though."

"That's not the point!" Tevon snapped. "Father, we should have him executed for disrespect!"

"Tevon, stop." King Arndel tried to calm his enraged son down. "You'll get plenty of time to prove yourself in the future."

"I'll, uh, leave now, sir." Steve, seeing his chance to escape, backed out of the room as the king nodded absently at him.

 _That didn't go too well._

Steve scarpered to the royal library before Prince Crybaby- sorry, _Tevon,_ could escape daddy and come after him with something deadlier than a frying pan.

* * *

Sylder's royal library was surprisingly well kept, considering how little it was used. There was no one in sight when Steve arrived.

Steve was very impressed, seeing how his own dwelling usually resembled the Aether Labs after Jeb decided to blow it up with a failed experiment. Notch should have hired this librarian to clean up His study, which always looked like a place where creepers have frequent parties. Supercharged creepers.

Steve doesn't usually read (He was way too restless to stay in the same place for more than five minutes), but he figured that he might as well as use the library here since he was bored out of his mind and had nothing else to do.

Being a really impulsive person, Steve picked a shelf that looked the most interesting to him. He sat down on a nearby cushion and pulled out the closest book at hand.

On the front page, it said:

 **Crafters, Humans, and Testificates**

 _Crafters, humans, and Testificates may look alike but have lots of differences. For example, Crafters can use something called the "Minecraft Laws" which allow them to break off cubes of matter simply by hitting it with either a tool or sometimes just their hands, and then "Crafting" it into something else. All Crafters have a personal "pocket" called an Inventory, which are inaccessible to anyone else but the Crafter him/herself. Some Crafters have larger Inventories than others. Crafters will also sometimes Respawn when they are killed. All demigods are Crafters._

 _Humans_

 _Humans are-_

Steve shut the book. He already knew most of this. He dropped the book and reached for another one, which was labelled:

 **Elenjorian Myths**

He flipped to a random page, and started reading.

 _Herobrine:_

 _Everyone knows him. Even the little children are taught a rhyme to remind them to not speak His name out loud, for calling a powerful entity's name will sometimes bring you to their attention. He is the White-Eyed terror of our nightmares. But no one know exactly who, or rather, what He actually is._

 _There is a story of how He is the ghost of a miner who dug too far and fell into the Void. There is another story of how he was a mighty hero who turned evil, hence His name. There is also a story of Herobrine being the son of the unknown Nether God, hence His title, Prince of the Nether._

 _There are also a small amount of people who believe that He is the twin brother of Notch, and created the world along with Him._

 _Whoever, or whatever He is, He is undoubtably dangerous, and painfully real._

Steve put the book down, frowning slightly. Notch had never told him who Herobrine was, or why He wanted Herobrine tracked down so bad. Maybe the brother theory was true after all.

He pulled another book off the shelf. This one was called:

 **Types of Magic and Magicians**

 _There are two main categories of magic: Elementary magic, and Mob Affinity magic._

 _While all magicians can do the usual stuff (i.e: cast spells, levitate, read undefended minds), the sort of magic that they are best at, the sort of magic that comes so naturally to them that they can do it without thinking almost, is the type of magic that they are born with._

 _Elementary magic: There are lots of types of Elements. Fire, water, air, earth, metal, ice, lightning, light, shadow, rock, nature, and maybe even a few undiscovered ones._

 _Mob Affinity: Mob Affinity is where you can do some of the things the a certain type of Mob does (i.e, an Ender Mage might teleport, and an Ocelot Mage will have a sharp sense of smell and always land on their feet). Some Mobmages can speak to Mobs. In the case of domestic or "animal" Mobs, though, that may be a bit useless. Hostile Mob Mages are despised and are banned from most Kingdoms simply because they represent a hostile Mob. Some Kingdoms welcome Mobmages in hopes that they can keep hostile Mobs away or tame Peaceful Mobs._

Steve shuddered. Lucky for him that he didn't tell anyone here that he was an Ender Mage. He would probably have been thrown out, Ranger or not, otherwise.

Steve stood to pick the books up, but of course, since Lady Luck seemed to hate his guts, tripped on something. He fell into the bookcase and knocked it to the ground with an almighty _CRASH!_

"What the Nether is going on there!" Shouted an old, grumpy voice from the back of the library.

 _Uh-oh, I think that's the librarian._

And for the second time that day, Steve ran for his life.

* * *

 **La Fini! Oh, and Steve actually hates reading. I only made him read because I wanted to explain some things to you guys. Sorry, Steve.**

 **Oh, and sorry again for updating so late. :c**


	4. Steve, yer a Dumbass!

Chapter 4: Steve, yer a Dumbass!

Steve's Point of View

* * *

Some people like to draw in their spare time. Other people might like to sing, or play sports. Me? Well, I like to mine. Sure, it was dangerous, but one of the perks that Notch gives His Elites is the ability to always Respawn (unless you get killed by a God or someone with a God-Essence weapon, in that case, bye). That still doesn't stop us from losing our stuff, though. That can get annoying. To me, there's nothing quite like the thrill of finding a diamond. There's also nothing quite like the shock of mining the diamond while standing on it, and then discovering that it was sitting just above a pool of lava a millisecond before falling into the said lava, either.

Well, after narrowly escaping from the library, I set off to the nearest mine. I always had my diamond pick in my Inventory, so I didn't need to go back for it.

I got halfway to the city gates before I realized that I didn't know where the mines were. In fact, since I've never come to Sylder before, I didn't even know if they _had_ a mine.

 _Erm, Oops?_

Luckily for me, the solution to my problem came running up to me, huffing and red-faced.

I recognized him as the guard from last night, the one that talked to me. He was clad in full iron armor, and had a sheathed iron sword clipped onto his belt. He also had a pair of green eyes that darted around every few seconds and sandy blond hair.

"Excuse me, sir." He panted. "I'm, uh, supposed to be your guide. I, um, only just found out." Then he added:"My name's Leon, by the way."

I was happy. Why wouldn't I be? First I got a cool bedroom that I could mess up however much I liked, then there was the room service, and now I have a free guide as well. Maybe Notch didn't do so badly after all.

"Cool!" I exclaimed. "Can you show me the way to the nearest cave system?"

"Oh, you mean the mines, sir? Sure, it's this way."

"Lead on! And please stop calling me sir. I'm pretty sure I'm younger than you and you make me feel old." With that, I set off after my new guide.

* * *

"This is the Sylder mines, s- I mean, Steve."

We were by the entrance of the apparent "Sylder's one and only mine". It sure didn't look like it. There were old signs all over the place, and it didn't look very well looked after.

I told Leon what I thought.

"There's not many miners around here." He explained. "We buy our ores from other kingdoms."

Well, that only meant that there was more goodies in there. No miners means more ores for me.

"Do you want to come? Or you can just go and I'll find my own way back. I don't really mind."

Leon's eyes widened a fraction.

"No, I'll come. I've never been in a cave before."

I shrugged absentmindedly, already thinking about the diamonds I would find.

"Okay then. I have a spare pick if you want it."

Leon took it with shining eyes, making the thirty-something year old suddenly look like a kid at a party. I didn't blame him. I mean, who wouldn't like mining?

We went through the entrance and found a little cavern, already stripped of ores. There were a few little tunnels here and there, no doubt made by the other miners.

"So, where do we go now?" Leon asked.

I ignored him, focusing instead on the fluttering feeling at the back of my mind. It grew into a slight tug.

 _Where?_

I felt around a bit.

 _Aha._

 _There._

I suddenly started digging a staircase downwards as fast as I could, with a confused Leon trailing behind me.

 _Time Skip..._

I dug through the last block of stone and dropped into a cavern, with a still confused Leon at my side. We found and mined a few veins of iron, lapis, and coal ore on the way down, but that wasn't what I was looking for.

What I was looking for was right there, across the pool of lava in front of us, and gleaming in the orangey light of the magma.

Leon gaped at it. "Diamonds! But how did you find them so fast?"

I shrugged. "I've always been able to feel where diamonds are. I don't know why, though."

A zombie came up behind me and I casually skewered it with my pickaxe before kicking it into the lava. It groaned a bit before bursting into flames and being consumed. All this while Leon continued to stare at the diamonds.

This went on for a while before I became impatient and bridged towards the diamonds. I'd almost reached them before an arrow zipped out of nowhere and-

Hit me in the shoulder, knocking me right off my bridge.

I opened my mouth to let out a not-so-manly shriek-

And landed on solid ground with a thump.

I opened my eyes and found myself back on my bridge, unharmed except for my bitten tongue. I looked around and found a cloud of Ender Particles where I used to be.

"Wow! That was cool! You threw that Ender Pearl so fast I didn't even see it!"

I kept my mouth shut and just smiled at him. No need to tell Leon that I had Enderman Mob Affinity and had just accidentally teleported. I couldn't teleport on purpose if I wanted to, anyway. And he didn't need to know about how I nearly shrieked.

I hurriedly mined the diamonds before I could get hit again, and we got out of the cave system.

* * *

Herobrine watched the miner and his companion leave the caves. The white-eyed being sighed.

 _"He owes me one."_ He muttered to Himself.

He didn't know why he teleported Steve away. Maybe because he was interesting. Maybe because he looked like a carbon copy of Himself. Or maybe... because he looked like _them._

Herobrine shook his head, not wanting to remember.

He went back to his previous question. So why did he help Steve? The miner would have Respawned anyway, and He had never really like the human species.

He was interrupted from his train of thought by the sound of footsteps. They sounded like they were coming from far away but Herobrine knew where they were coming from immediately.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in the little cave that he had decided to sit down in. It was pitch black, but being who he was, he could see perfectly.

And so could the mobs.

Herobrine listened to the footsteps and snarled. Six zombies and three Endermen, all headed his way, and all of them armed.

He flew up to the cave ceiling and hung there, defying gravity. He listened again.

 _"He's here somewhere, I smelt his scent."_

 _"Lead us to him, brother. Let us destroy the Destroyer."_

Herobrine waited as the whispers grew louder, a predatory grin forming on his face. He hadn't had a kill in a long time.

The gang of mobs burst into the cave and raised their weapons, looking around for their 'prey'.

But they never looked up.

 _"All for nothing."_ Herobrine sighed as he dropped silently into their midst.

The mobs were sliced into shreds with shocking speed before they even knew what was going on. All except for one Enderman.

 _"Didn't even_ _get blood on my sword. How nice is that?"_ Herobrine murmured while staring down the terrified Enderman.

 _"W-what do you w-want?"_ The Enderman stammered, trembling.

 _"I want to know why you want me_ _dead."_ Herobrine answered coldly.

The Enderman stared back defiantly, all traces of fear gone.

 _"Because you are a monster and a pretender, and no mob would rest until you are dead and gone!"_

Herobrine was silent. For a moment he seemed to be staring intently into nothing.

 _"Interesting. Dilac Morlockson, is it?"_ Herobrine spoke after a pause. _"Ninety-five years old, young for an Enderman. Thirty-three years ago, you watched as almost the entire generation of mobs stormed my fortress in an attempt to kill me. You witnessed the fight from afar but didn't dare join in. Fortunate for you, because I put an end to every last mob on the scene. But you know what? I have just the word to describe the likes of you. Coward. Cowardice to watch as your friends died without lifting a finger to help."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"I would be a poor god indeed if I couldn't read minds."_

 _"You're no god. You're weak. You bled. Gods don't bleed."_ But there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Herobrine flashed him a false friendly smile that had way too many teeth in it.

 _"It's called ichor, my dear friend. And gods do bleed, just not very much. I could show you, if you like."_

Herobrine drew his blade and slashed himself across the wrist. Blood welled up and dripped down onto the Enderman's shoulder, hissing and burning as it landed.

The Enderman screeched in pain.

 _"Stop! Please!"_

Herobrine tilted his head slightly and widened his eyes in an imitation of childish innocence.

 _"Ah, but I have no mercy to spare for you,_ traitor."

The bleeding stopped as the wound healed itself, glowing faintly in the process. Herobrine reached out and caressed the Enderman's cheek with deceptive gentleness, then walked away.

The Enderman screamed as it melted from inside out.

* * *

 **A/N: ErmagahdIcannotbelievethis! I have follows? And a favorite? This is so cool! I know it isn't much but it means a lot to me. Thanks, peeps!**

 **The last part was a bit gruesome but, well, I figured since he IS Herobrine he has to murder something in a horrible way sooner or later, right?**

 **Anyways, see ya later!**


	5. Thunderstorm On The Horizon

**Hey, guys! Sorry for vanishing off the face of the earth - I may or may not have gone on a holiday and left my computer behind.**

 **Anyway, it's here now. The chapter, I mean.**

 **P.S, Yes, for people who were wondering, a bit of the last chapter _was_ a reference to dillongoo's Gods Don't Bleed (Best video _ever_!).**

* * *

Chapter Five

Thunderstorm On The Horizon

* * *

"So, how old are you, actually? I know you told the king that you were twenty-something, but I know a Crafter who looks like she's thirty but is actually ninety-five years old."

"Well, Crafters tend to stop ageing once they reach a certain age. Also, we do age at a far slower rate." I informed Leon. "But yeah, you're right. I might have lied a bit because I thought Tevon was going to throw a hissy fit. I'm forty-two."

My new partner in crime seemed to be impressed. Also he wasn't surprised to hear that Tevon was going off his rocker.

"Yeah, I think the prince might be a Crafter. He's certainly maturing at a _very_ slow rate."

"Is he always like that?"

"More or less. Don't tell anyone I said this, but he is an absolute jerk. And his daddy dear is clueless. Thinks to much of his son."

"Really? I thought the king was a nice-ish guy. Just a bit boring when it comes to reports."

Leon shook his head in disgust. "The king's okay. It's his son I'm worried about. Have you noticed the fact that there's no Queen?"

"Frankly, no. I've been told by one of my comrades that I don't notice details very well."

"Well, the thing is... Tevon's adopted. He's the king's nephew. His parents died in a wildfire while picnicking in the forest when he was two. Unfortunately, they left him in the house so he survived. The king adopted him because he couldn't have children."

I felt a bit sorry for the prince now. "Is that why he's like this?"

"No. He doesn't even remember his parents. Was too young back then. And don't feel sorry for him, he's done a few things that should have him burning in the Nether after he dies."

"Like what?" I asked, curious. We reached the city gates, and the guards nodded at us as we passed, but I focused only on what Leon was saying.

"Well..." His voice dropped into a whisper. "Do you remember, a few years ago, there was a Giant zombie wreaking havoc up here? And that a Ranger was sent to take care of it? A Ranger who had a God-Essence blade called _Wyrdfell_?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Katara? But she never got here. We - we assumed that she was mislaid on the way. She vanished off the face of Elenjor. There were search parties - a lot of them, but we never found her. They're still looking."

Leon nodded. "Of course, you can't find a dead person if their body has been destroyed. She did get here, you know. She entered through the same gates you did, only a year ago. I saw her with my own eyes."

My eyes must have grown to the size of oranges, because he gave me a weird look before going on. "The prince was the one who welcomed her, but I think he was more interested in the sword. He knew it was the only thing that could kill the Giant zombie. That night, while she was at dinner, he snuck into her room and stole _Wyrdfell_ , replacing it with a look-alike. I saw him, but he made me keep quiet. I should have told on him then, even when he threatened to have me thrown into the Nether as a Material-Gatherer."

I could understand why he feared being sent to the Nether. I've been there myself, and it wasn't pleasant. You could hear the souls screaming from the Soul Sand they were trapped in as they suffered. Mostly gibberish, howls and wails and once I even heard a hauntingly sad song that held you in its grasp, spellbound, until you went mad and hurled yourself into a lava lake, and another time soft laughter that made your spine creep.

I shivered at the memory, but he didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in his telling. "You know one of the only things that could kill a Ranger and keep them dead is a God-Essence weapon, right? To keep her from discovering his theft, he waited behind her door and stabbed her as she came in. I'd definitely call that murder, don't you think?"

I was speechless for a second. "He should be brought to justice! For both theft and murder! But now, he is almost worshipped because he defeated the zombie. With the stolen sword of a dead Ranger. That hardly seems fair."

By then we'd reached my room. I sighed:"Well, I'd better take a rest and process the new information. Notch is gonna know about this."

I opened the door, and sprang back, horrified. "What have they done? Why's my bedroom a gaping, pitch black hole?!"

Leon sighed with exasperation. "We're in the West Wing, you fool. Your rooms are in the East Wing. This is the wine cellar."

"Oh. I don't suppose there's anything in there apart from-"

But I never had a chance to finish what I was saying, because at that moment, another guard burst in, gasping for breath. She had short black hair, brown eyes, and cocoa coloured skin.

"What-? Tara, what's going on?" Leon asked the other guard.

Tara replied, quite out of breath:"The Librarian is dead, and Tevon says Steve did it."

I was shocked. I definitely didn't see _that_ one coming."But I was out mining! I didn't murder the Librarian!"

Tara's eyes flashed."I know. That's why I came to warn you. Prince Tevon is up to his tricks again."

Leon turned to me and said:" You gotta run, Steve. He has a God-Essence weapon, and he wouldn't just bring you in for judging. He'd kill you and make an excuse about it and you can't beat him either. I know you're very good with a weapon but you wouldn't stand a chance when he's got thirty specially chosen elite soldiers on his side."

"Where should I go, then?"

"The Sylder Forest. They won't follow you there. It's dangerous, and most people who go in don't come out again. The _Evanji_ -"

"Wait, _Evanji_? You mean there's _Netherwolves_ in your forest? But they only live in the Nether!"

"Believe it or not, some do live here. The Forest is dangerous, but you don't have a choice. You better run fast, and don't look for your horse. The stables are very well guarded."

I nodded to both of them, and got the Nether out of there as fast as I could.

Leon called after my retreating rear end:" Oh Steve? I have some advice for you. _Don't look back."_

Then I was out of the corridor.

* * *

To my credit, I'd _almost_ reached the Sylder Forest when they caught up with me. My last Speed Potion had just run out and I slowed to a gentle jog because I couldn't run anymore.

" _Steve, Son of None! You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Cardock Mures!_ " They called out to me. I looked back, and immediately regretted it. I could see a giant cloud of dust, and flashes of metal. And hear the sounds of a lot of galloping horses.

 _Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What now?_ I ran even faster, but it was no use. I'd come right in front of a large boulder, and had nowhere to go. Seeing no other way out of this, I ran full speed at the boulder and somehow managed to make the leap over. I was surprised that I didn't simply crash face-first into the rock, judging by how tired I was.

In front of me was the forest. I sighed in relief as I entered it. Now I was safe. Tevon's men can finally stop chasing me.

Just as I thought that, a company of thirty-one people clad in armour crashed into the clearing behind me, and surrounded me in a circle.

 _Damn! Just had to jinx that._

Tevon stepped into the circle, and drew his sword. I recognised the blade.

 _Wyrdfell._

 _Doom._

In the tongue of the Gods, _wyrdfell_ meant doom. I thought Katara was weird for choosing that name, but now I see the effect it had on enemies.

Tevon lunged at me, sword swinging. I drew my own sword and parried with ease. But the rest of the men fell in to help, and I couldn't hold all of them off at once.

I felt the cold blade of blade of a sword sinking into my back as I tried to block the blows aimed at my front and knew without looking that it was Tevon, with _Wyrdfell_.

 _Katara, why, even when you're dead you manage to get me back for pranking you all those years ago._

My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground, still trying to defend myself.

The last thing I saw was the brilliant flash of a bolt of lightning.

Then the world plunged into darkness.


	6. Wait, what?

**Sorry, peeps, I got banned from my computer. Updates will come slower now but I promise to keep writing (Sue me if I don't).**

* * *

Chapter Six

Wait, I'm Not Dead?

* * *

 _"Can you tell us a story?" Young Steve begged, looking at the old Enderman with wide eyes._

 _"Yes, but only one. What do you want me to tell?"_

 _"Tell us how Steve got here" The young E_ _nderman at Steve's side replied._

 _"If you promise not to interrupt me, Xeraph, Steve."_

 _"I promise!" The two boys chorused._

 _"Nine years ago," The old Enderman began."I was in the place we now call the Overworld. I was hunting in a forest near a very big structure that humans call a "mansion", and that mansion belonged to a powerful tribe of humans called House Xelandris. The sun was about to come up, and I was just about to head back to my cave when-"_

 _"Did you get ambushed by zombies? Is that why you weren't in you cave, Sirras?" Xeraph asked, excited._

 _"Xeraph, don't interrupt. Anyway, I was just about to teleport when I saw something strange happen. A bundle of cloth appeared out of thin air and floated onto the mansion's doorstep." Sirras paused." And no, I wasn't hallucinating. It simply appeared from nowhere. A human came out, and saw the bundle. I'm assuming that the human thought that it was an orphan left by a random homeless human, because the first thing it did was to carry it into the woods and leave it there."_

 _"Awww, Steve. Rejected!" Xeraph teased. Steve swatted at his friend's arm._

 _"Xeraph! Don't interrupt or I won't tell you the story." The old Enderman scolded._

 _"Well, I was curious as to what it was, so I picked it up and shook it a bit. A high pitched noised that hurt my ears came from the bundle, and something fell out of it."_

 _Xeraph did his absolute best to stifle his giggle, but didn't quite succeed. Steve glared at him crossly, but that just made it worse._

 _Sirras, sensing the mayhem about to occur, hurried up with his telling._

 _"It had purple eyes and a mop of brown fur atop its head, and it was a human cub-"_

 _But before he could get any further, he was interrupted by an earth-shaking roar outside. Steve's eyes grew to the size of Chorus fruits and then he was dragging Xeraph by the arm towards the door. Xeraph didn't protest, as he was curious to see what was going on too._

 _"Wait- !" Sirras called, but it was to late. The boys were already outside._

 _Sirras sighed, and made to follow them. The Dragon is not known for killing people, but it didn't stop most Enderfolks from fearing it. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry._

* * *

 _Steve was in a land with red skies. Everything was tinged with red. The trees were made out of glowstone and magma blocks, and the ground was netherrack._

 _A vast shadow fell over him. He looked up, and saw a flying dragon covered in glittering red scales that seemed to shed their own light, and radiated heat like a pool of lava._

 _Its slitted gold eyes met his purple ones, and he saw endless sorrow in the golden pools._

* * *

 _The Ender Dragon was crouched on top of one of her great obsidian pillars. On the ground, a horde of Endermen marched against her, armed to the teeth. She spread her wings and roared, a column of indigo flames surging up into the black sky of the End, but the Endermen kept coming._

 _Steve wanted to shout at them to stop, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out of it. No! He wanted to say. She's a friend! Why would you try to hurt her? Zariah protects the End!_

 _But then Zariah and the Endermen vanished, and Steve hurtled headlong into another dream._

* * *

 _He was in the ruins of a once-great castle. The bodies of Mobs lay around him in heaps. There must have been more than a million of them, some on the ground, some on the roofs and even some inbedded into the wall, like they were thrown there with great force. They all seemed to be freshly killed._

 _The ground was ruptured and had giant cracks in it, and the castle looked like it had of several thousand blocks of TNT explode on it all at once. Or maybe creepers, though why creepers would make an army and explode on the same place Steve had no idea._

 _There was a single building still standing, though not quite in mint condition. Steve made his way towards it, curious as to why it was still standing while the others had all fallen, all the while aware that whatever killed those Mobs might still be around._

 _The building resembled a cathedral. There was once stained glass covering the gaping hole at the front, but most of it was knocked out in what seemed like an explosion._

 _There was a boy kneeling on the floor. A bloodstained scythe that glowed with a white-blue light lay on the floor next to him, and blood dripped down his face from a gash on his forehead. He had dark brown hair that curled slightly, and a sort of beauty that Steve had only seen in Gods, while at the same time bearing a slight, but uncanny resemblence to himself. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be not breathing._

 _Steve inched forwards, wanting a closer look. The air temperature dropped dramatically, seeming to get colder closer to the boy._

 _Suddenly, he knew, without a doubt, that this one person was the cause of the piles of bodies outside._

 _His eyes flashed open without a warning, and fixed on Steve._

 _Steve yelped in shock._

 _The eyes that stared at him were pure white, without pupils or irises._

* * *

I woke up with a jolt, and tumbled off my bed, hitting the floor with a quite painful _THUD!_

I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

Then stopped.

 _Wait a moment... Aren't I supposed to be dead?_

Then I took in my surroundings, and proceeded to mentally freak out.

 _Where the Nether am I?_

Well, answering my own question, I was in a small cottage, and, from a glance out the window, in the middle of nowhere.

"Well, I was wondering if you'd ever wake up." A voice drawled from my right.

I turned around and there was a young man about the same age as me, with cobalt blue eyes and hair as black as a moonless night. He was dressed in a black overcoat and wearing faded blue pants. He also looked familiar.

"I was kind of expecting you to stay on the bed, though." He added, seeming to be amused to find me on the floor.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I blurted out, then realising it was probably not very polite.

He didn't seem to be bothered, though.

"I'm Horus,a random magician who's hiding from other magicians and a few unsavory people, and you happen to be in my house which is in the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as the fearsome Sylder Forest." He paused for a bit. "Oh, and you're welcome. I saved your rear end two days ago and you've being out ever since."

"Uh... Thanks?" I muttered.

Then my stomach made a noise like a wounded beast. I'm positive that I turned into a tomato from embarassment.

Horus rolled his eyes. "Looks like I'm going to have to feed you now."

I tried to not look too hopeful.

* * *

After depriving my new buddy of most of his food store, I decided to chew him out a bit. Which might not have been a problem if he wasn't so damned hard to find. He wasn't in the house, he wasn't near the house, and he also wasn't near this lake that was near the house.

In the end, it was him who found _me_.

It was near dark and I was wandering around the house, when a dead cow landed splat bang right in front of me. I jumped and ended up falling flat on my back, and started to let loose a torrent of colourful words that should not be repeated to little kids.

Horus stepped into my line of sight, looking very amused indeed. "What was that for?!" I sputtered in protest.

"For fun. And because you ate all my food and made me spend a whole three minutes hunting for something to eat." He replied.

"I was looking for you."

"Why?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Because I wanted to ask you something, well, a lot of things."

"Alright." He sighed.

Suddenly I noticed something. "Hey, where'd the cow go?"

He pointed at the pile of raw beef and leather on the ground with an air of exasperation.

"You're a Crafter, aren't you?" I asked quite pointlessly as the items disappeared into his inventory.

"What gave that away, huh?" He said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"We'd better get inside before the creepy crawlies come out." He stated, before I had a chance to say anything.

I decided not to argue, because I had no wish to be eaten alive by either Mobs or mosquitoes.

* * *

"So, what did you want to ask me?" Horus said idly, lounging on an armchair.

"Well, first of all, why'd you help me?"

"Because I don't like that stuck up idiot of a prince. Next?"

"I'm pretty sure I got stabbed in the back. But there isn't even a scar there." I tugged at my shirt a bit.

"Advanced healing magic. You have to have it if you want to survive...certain things." He flicked his fingers, and a shower of blue light illuminated the room for a brief moment.

"Why are you living here? You said you were running from someone, but who?"

"You know about the Golden City, right?" He stared into the fire.

"Yeah, where all powerful magic-users go."

"Well, the thing is, sometimes, if you're good enough, they let you join them. But if they, and by they, I mean the Council Of Spellcasters that runs the whole shebang. If they decide that you're _too_ powerful... Then they get rid of you instead." He paused for a bit. "Apparently I was a bit too good. I've being framed for stealing, murdering, Griefing and who knows what else more times than I can count. Also, I've managed to attract enough attention for people to send several hitmen over here, and I'm pretty sure you've seen my Wanted posters."

"So that's why I thought I'd seen you before! Your posters are all over Allerdant, I saw them when I last visited that city."

"What was it this time?" He asked, with a small smirk on his face.

"It said you were a half-mad rogue mage who eradicated a small kingdom."

He laughed a little. I realised that it was the first time I've actually seen him laugh.

"So, how exactly are you so overpowered?"

"Well, you know all the types of magic, right? I have every single one of them. Most people are limited to just Fire or just Blaze Affinity, but I have every single one."

"Can you fly?" I asked. I'd like to be able to fly, myself.

"Yes. Of course."

There was a _tap-tap-tap_ at the door. Horus leapt to his feet.

"I'm going to have a chat with a ...Friend. You can use the bed. I never use it anyway, because I keep the bed I sleep on in my inventory."

* * *

The Ender Dragon slept on her favourite obsidian pillar, as usual.

But this time, something woke her up. Her Danger Sense were screaming.

Something was wrong.

She heard footsteps coming towards her, closer and closer. The intruder was being _very_ quiet by normal standards, but her dragon ears could pick up the sound of a fly breathing from forty feet away if she wanted to.

The footsteps stopped when whatever it was was standing next to her.

She kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, until she heard the sound of metal scraping softly.

 _The sound of a blade being drawn._

She lunged suddenly, with unnatural speed, and knocked the Enderman to the ground and pinned him under her claws. But the Enderman managed to teleport away, reappearing behind her and swinging his sword. Zariah simply flicked her tail, knocking the weapon away while tossing the Enderman into the air like a ragdoll, and slamming him into the obsidian, trapping him under her claws while weaving a net a violet light so he couldn't teleport out.

 _"Why do you seek to slay me?"_ The Dragon snarled in her mindvoice.

The Enderman struggled a bit before giving up. _"Because you are a beast that has no right to rule over us and because you are the Destroyer's ally."_

 _"So Herobrine has lost the loyalty of the Endermen too, now."_ Zariah mused.

 _"We were never loyal to that Pretender!"_

Zariah's eyes darkened.

 _"You have no clue as to what you're meddling in, youngling."_

The Enderman's defiant look suddenly turned fearful as the Dragon bared her teeth.

 _"Please, don't kill me. I swear I won't try that again."_

Zariah thought for a moment. The Enderman was very young, barely grown.

But Dragons had no mercy. Herobrine had seen to that.

 _"You should have thought about that before coming here."_

She pushed the Enderman, still wrapped in the net of light, over the edge of her three-hundred and seventy-six block high pillar, and watched him fall and hit the ground, bursting in a shower of blood.

She turned to go back to sleep, his screams replaying in her ears like music.

* * *

 **Rule number one: Never disturb the Enderdragon while sleeping. She will get grumpy. Nether hath no fury as a Dragon deprived of her sleep.**

 **Sorry for the delay. As stated above, I got banned from the computer. I did end up writing this at 3am at night, so it might be a little wonky.**

 **Again, thanks for the reviews! (And the favs, omg the favs).**


	7. The Very Bad Beginning

Chapter 5: The Very Bad Beginning

* * *

 _I was standing in a landscape I knew well. Inky black skies dotted with stars and great obsidian pillars rising into the Void from the faintly glowing yellow ground, and slender Chorus trees here and there._

 _I must be dreaming. Again._

 _A voice suddenly spoke from behind me:"Hey, um, Steve? If you could turn around so I could actually speak to you, that would be great."_

 _I was so surprised I jumped like a rabbit being shot at. But yes, I did end up turning around._

 _In front of me (And previously behind me) was my childhood buddy Xeraph the Enderman._

 _"Oh hi, long time no see even though I haven't the faintest idea why I'm dreaming about you this is really weir-"_

 _He interrupted me. Seriously, he needs to break that habit of his. "I gotta talk to you about something." He glanced around us nervously as if he thought we were being spied on while stealing cookies._

 _"What?" I was, at this point, very curious indeed._

 _"You know Notch right? Tell Him to come to the End with an army or something. I really don't care if He ends up "arresting" us. Just get Him to come. Tell him that there's something in the End that He doesn't want anywhere near His world. Please."_

 _To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. This must be important, because Xeraph never says 'please', unless he is in serious trouble (Usually it's with his parents). "What's wrong? Is not Zariah you're talking about, is it? I get that She can be a bit sadistic sometimes, but-"_

 _And he interrupts again. "It's not Zariah. It's something else-" And he looks around again._

 _Suddenly my vision_ _flickered. Xeraph paled considerably (Considering the fact that he is an Enderman). "I gotta go."_

 _"Wait, what's wrong-"_

 _"Just get someone to help! Bye Steve!"_

 _And I blacked out. Before I could even tell him that I couldn't contact Notch_ _anymore._

* * *

I woke up with a jolt. It was barely dark outside, the sun was just rising and I was definitely _not_ in the End. And I also realised somewhere where I wasn't.

"YAY! I DIDN'T FALL OFF THE BE-"

 _THUMP_

I was so busy celebrating that I didn't notice I'd rolled over. Typical me.

"Good morning."

I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Behind you." I turned around. Horus crossed his arms and stared at me like I was an idiot.

I scowled. "Well, sorry. It's a habit of mine to fall out of my bed every morning and there's no need to look at me like-" Then I got a better look at him. By that, I meant he was covered with blood and looked like he'd just walked out of a Mob Grinder. A scythe-like weapon was leaning against the wall by his feet.

"What happened to you?!"

"Oh. You mean this?" He indicated at his gore-splattered shirt. "The blood isn't mine. Most of it." He added with a slight wince. " My "friend" turned out to be a traitor and led me into an ambush. I killed a few things, fell down a ravine, and I just got back." He explained casually while removing his cloak.

"..."

Oh, right. This is awkward. And now I have to explain how I have to go to the End without sounding weird. Great. Not that Horus is gonna be weirded out, of course. His life is the personation of strange.

"I, um, have to go somewhere..."

"Bathroom's out the back." I swear he smirked, that little bugger.

"Not that! I mean I actually have to go somewhere."

"Where then?"

I scratched my head and tried to think of something that wouldn't imply that I used to be an honorary Enderman. "Home." I said at last.

"I wouldn't suggest going back to the Aether right now. Notch will lock you up and not let you out until He is sure of your innocence. Which, knowing His Almighty Buffoonery, would be never."

"Yeah, I guess, but I didn't mean- Wait, how did you know that I live in the Aether?"

He jerked his thumb towards a space next to my bed. I tracked his gaze and found my sword leaning against the wall. How did I not notice that?

"That does not prove anything."

He smirked. "Oh yes it does. Unless you pulled a Prince Tevon and murdered someone, there is no other place you can get those weapons from. Gods don't just randomly give them out, you know."

"Fine, I'm an Elite, a Ranger, or whatever people have taken to calling us these days. But unlike what appearances may suggest, I'm not actually stupid enough to crawl back to the Aether right now. I'm going somewhere else."

"Which is where?"

"Now you're just being nosy. Why do you want to know where I live?"

"Because I'm curious and you owe me for saving your behind."

He does have a point there, even if he _is_ acting slightly stalker-ish. He probably wouldn't mind, right? I mean, that guy is in no place to judge. Horus is a socially retarded hermit living in the woods (No offences meant), and he is a Mobmage.

I took a deep breath. "I'm going to the End." I said.

"All that reluctance, just because you didn't want to say you were raised in the End? Wow." He acted like he met someone who was raised in a different dimension every day. I gaped at him. "What?" he asked. "This is not the first time a kid was taken to the End and raised there."

"Uh-huh. You're saying this has happened before?"

Horus snorted. "More times than you know." He paused for a bit. "Do you know your way around here?"

"Oh... I hadn't thought about that." I replied sheepishly.

"Great! I'm going with you. _After_ I get changed. I've always wanted to see the End for myself and you're the perfect excuse to go there. Now hurry up and get packed, the food is in a double chest over in that corner."

Well, if he was gonna offer food, I'm not going to complain. And besides, I guess I do need a guide of some sort. I shut my mouth and did what he said.

 _Three hours later..._

I really miss my horse now. He's probably sold to someone else now but anyway.

We've being walking through this damned forest for I don't know how long. Well, Horus has been walking, I've been tripping. He was as graceful as a forest cat and I was a headless rhinoceros. Not fair.

"You say the End Portal is in the West Region?"

"Yeah. I heard from a few Endermen. _Where_ in the West Region though, I have no idea." I replied. That was a _little_ vague, considering the fact that the Western Region was a quarter of the Overworld. "Where are we heading to, by the way?"

"A little town somewhere around. Why they built it here of all places I have no idea. Especially with all the _evanji_ howling at night, they mustn't get a lot of sleep. Not to mention the damned Mobs." he said.

"You don't seem to be very fond of Mobs, considering the fact that you're a Mobmage." I tripped on a root.

He avoided my gaze and said instead:"The village is a few more hours away. I suggest you save your energy for walking."

He didn't talk again for the rest of the trek.

 _Roughly four hours later..._

"How m-much longer to... g-go?" I gasped after tripping over the _n_ th root.

Horus shot me a slightly amused look and said:"It's right there."

I looked around."I don't see any village."

"Look up."

I did as he said.

Above us was a crisscrossing patchwork of rope bridges, linking from one tree to another. The houses were built into the trees and unlit glowstone lamps lined the walkways.

I spoke the first thought that came to my mind:"I didn't know there were elves in the Overworld."

Horus rolled his eyes."No, silly. They live in the Twilight Forest. When you live on the edge of a forest infested with things that want to kill you, you want to be out of their reach."

"How are we gonna get up?"

"There used to be a cage on a pulley that they pulled people up on." He replied."But now they can't be bothered to do it. There's a ladder over there."

"Also, one thing you have to know." He added just before we reached the ladder."Fire is forbidden here. Any fire-involved things that is not a furnace is not to be taken out of your Inventory. Got it?"

I nodded absentmindedly.

"Good. I know an inn around here somewhere. Try not to get into trouble."

* * *

The inn was called the Dancing Pig. It sure looked like that inside. It was dimly lit and reeked of alcohol and Awkward Potions, and the chairs were thrown in a pile with no regard for order.

"It's the only shelter here." Horus whispered as we approached the counter. "Otherwise I would obviously have gone somewhere else."

"Why do we have to stop here? We could have walked on."

"Because the next safe place is a day's walk away and I do not want to be caught in the open at night. The Mobs seem to have a burning hatred reserved especially for me."he replied.

He rapped on the wooden counter and waited. "Coming!" Shouted a voice from the kitchen. A few minutes later, a grime-covered woman wearing an apron came out and looked at us as if we were something unpleasant on her warted nose. She opened her mouth to say something but Horus beat her to it.

"A room for the night please. With two beds." He cut in smoothly before she could say anything, dropping a glittering something onto the counter.

The barkeeper swept it up and put it away in one quick movement.

"Any drinks?" She asked in a rough, low voice.

"Just water for me, thanks." He glanced at me. "Steve? What do you want?"

"Obviously nothing alcoholic." growled a voice from behind us. "The kid looks hardly out of the cradle!"

The other drinkers roared with laughter. I turned around, bristling.

The (smelly) hairy giant of a man grinned at me and said in a high-pitched voice "Oh, is baby gonna run home to mommy now?"

More laughter.

"Oh yeah? I'll prove to you who here is the wimp." I snarled.

"Steve." Horus muttered."He's trying to provoke you.

The big man grinned even more. "You wanna prove that you're not an utter wimp? Beat me in a drinking contest and I'll publicly announce defeat and worship your shoes."

Horus put a restraining hand on my shoulder. "Steve." He hissed."Don't!"

I shook his hand off and strode up to the man. "I accept." I stated.

 _Half an hour later..._

Horus sighed as he led Steve to their room. Of course he lost, the fool. And got made fun of, too, after he fell off his chair in a dead faint.

"Meanies" Steve muttered."Why were they sho _*hic*_ mean?"

"I don't know, maybe because you made a total ass of yourself?" he replied sarcastically.

"Oooh...I don' _*hic*_ feel sho good." Steve slurred.

"You're drunk." Horus said. "You are going to bed. Now just wait here while I unlock-" Then he realised Steve was no longer by his side.

" _Shit_ " He swore under his breath, and bolted downstairs in search of the aforementioned nitwit.

He found him in an open broom closet kneeling before one of the brooms.

"Will you _*hic*_ marry me, my lovely _*hic_ * Broom-ilia? He slurred while gazing at the broom lovingly.

Horus carefully kept his face expressionless.

"C'mon Steve" He sighed, lifting him up by the collar. "You need to sleep this off."

Steve whirled around angrily and smacked him in the face. Or tried to. He ended up missing by a mile because he was drunk.

"Leave me wissh _*hic*_ my lovely-" Steve paused. "What wash * _hic*_ her name again?" he asked, waving in the vague direction of the broom closet.

Horus ignored his latest attempt at intelligence and proceeded to drag him away by the ear, seemingly impervious to the cries of pain echoing up the stairs as he made his way to their room, whereupon reaching it he threw Steve in and blocked up the door with two blocks of cobblestone (Steve was too drunk to remember he had a pickaxe in his Inventory).

After a few minutes of on and off banging on the door, the room went quiet. Horus opened the door and peeked in.

Steve was sound asleep on the bottom bunk.

Horus breathed out in relief. Now he was free to do whatever he liked without worrying about the derp messing things up and causing utter chaos.

Just before he reached the entrance of the inn, there was the sound of blocks breaking and a blur rushed past him. How is Steve awake already?

So, apparently Steve _did_ remember about his pick. Well, this complicates things.

Horus did an about-turn and ran after said drunk, hoping to stop him before anything serious happened. Notch forbid, if Steve had a flint and steel, Horus did not want to take the blame for what happened afterwards.

He followed him out of the inn and caught up to him on one of the wooden platforms where the ladders were. Steve had stolen a welcome mat from someone's doorway...

"What in the Nether do you think you're doing, Steve?" Horus was unamused. Steve was sitting on the welcome mat and giggling like a three-year-old. People who were walking past stopped and stared at the scene.

"Imma gonna fwy to deh Aaeether on mwy magic carpet." Steve sang.

"Remind me to never let you drink anyone even _slightly_ alcoholic ever again." Horus muttered under his breath.

Steve giggled again."Well, bwy bwy fellas!"

Horus darted forwards. "Steve!" He yelled while trying to grab him.

Steve evaded his attempts and stuck his tongue out at the crowd. "Imma gonna flyyyyy!" He sang again.

Then he threw the welcome mat over the platform and jumped off after it.

Horus winced when he heard the _CRASH_ that followed, but then remembered that Steve was 100% guaranteed to respawn. He almost wished he wouldn't. The idiot definitely deserved that.

Though, Steve probably would be very upset if Horus didn't get his stuff for him before it got looted. Especially because his sword should never fall into the wrong hands.

 _Later at nighttime..._

Horus lay on the lower bunk trying to get to sleep. How long does it take for someone to respawn again? He was just getting slightly worried that maybe Steve _wouldn't_ respawn after all.

Then a weight fell on top of him. Horus may have forgotten that Steve fell asleep on the bottom bunk and therefore would respawn there.

He pushed Steve off the bed and rolled over. Steve hit the floor with a muffled _ouch_ and got up, opening the door quietly and walking outside.

Horus ignored him and went to sleep. After all that, Steve couldn't possibly be _still_ drunk.

... Right?

* * *

I woke up with a pounding headache. My face seemed to be greeting the dirt. Wait, what happened? I remember getting into a drinking contest and...

"Oh good. You're awake." Horus.

"I feel terrible." I groaned.

"And you should." He replied coldly. "Take a look around."

I slowly lifted my face from the ground. The first thing I noticed was the firelight. Then I noticed the ring of angry people around me and Horus. Then half the treetop village burning.

"What... happened?" I asked groggily.

"You got drunk. Then you did a bunch of other things I'm not going to get into right now. And then you took out your flint and steel and set fire to the village. And now we are surrounded by angry people in the middle of the night and if the villagers don't kill us then the Mobs will." He said in an emotionless tone.

"Oh... Sorry?" I gulped.

The villagers raised their torches and various other weapons threateningly. A pitchfork landed inches from my face and stuck there, quivering.

"...Run" Horus said after a pause.

So that's what we did.

* * *

 ** _Many years earlier. (Short story)._**

* * *

A fifteen-year-old Steve wandered alone in front of a cave.

"Hello? Xeraph? Aunt Zyrie? Uncle Tharis? Where are you?!" Steve cried out.

No one answered.

He remembered them sitting around in a circle, sharing Chorus Fruit. And then... when the supercharged creeper came out of nowhere...

Steve didn't know what to do. He didn't even know if they were still alive or not. Maybe they were only separated by the blast. Maybe they'd teleported away. Steve and Xeraph were the furtherest away from the creeper, but Xeraph was nowhere to be found. Not even an Ender Pearl to signify his death.

Trust disaster to happen the first time he was allowed to come to the Overworld.

An arrow whizzed past his ear, missing by an inch or so. Steve jumped and whirled around. In the cave's entrance stood a weird white thing made entirely out of bones.

 _Skeleton._ He remembered they were called. And they come out in nighttime, along with the other monsters...

 _Crap._ Steve looked at the sky. It was dark, like the skies of the End.

Which meant it was night.

Another arrow whizzed by, this time closer. Steve took a final look at the undead creature and ran for his life.

A rotting, stinking green creature stumbled out in front of him and made an attempt to grab him. _Zombie_. He ducked under its swinging arms and kept going.

He had to get to a shelter.

Then a black shape descended from a tree just as he ran under it. Steve cried out in fright and swerved sharply, barely avoiding its snapping mandibles.

 _Spider_.

A cacophony of groans, clacks, hisses and shrieks sounded behind him. Steve didn't look back, just ran harder than ever.

An arrow landed at his feet. Steve yelled in shock then tripped over it. He closed his eyes, thinking the last thing he would see was to be the skeleton taking aim at him.

After a while, when nothing happened, he slowly opened his eyes. Where the Mobs once stood, there where arrows sticking in the ground.

"I've got you, kid. No wonder you were screaming so loudly. Why are you out here by yourself?" Came a gruff, friendly voice. It wasn't like the Endermen's voices, which you could hear in your head, but it came from somewhere. Namely, right beside him.

Steve turned to face the owner of the voice. It was a human. He (Steve thought it was a male human, for it had short hair and a square jaw) had brown hair and pale blue eyes, and the beginnings of a beard. When he spoke, his mouth moved.

"Your mouth moves when you speak." Steve said in surprise.

The man laughed "And so it should. What's your name, kid?"

"Steve." He answered.

"What are you doing out here on your own?"

"My family, they-" Steve broke off, chest tightening. "Supercharged creeper." He finally said.

"Ah. I am sorry for your loss." The man said solemnly.

Steve nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Hurry up, man! I don't want to wait here for longer than necessary."

Steve look around, only just noticing the group of humans a little distance away from him.

"Coming!" Shouted the man.

He took Steve's hand and said:" My name is Edin Evetsor." Then he grinned. "Let's not keep those idiots waiting, or they might deafen your ears with their whining."


	8. Carrots

**A/N: Warning: There may be increased amounts of swearing because this is rated T and I want to abuse my right to write swear words. :3**

* * *

Chapter 8:

 _Two hours after Steve's "departure" from Sylder;_

Tevon scowled, pacing back and forth across the throne room, slowly wearing a trench in the very expensive carpet. Those useless soldiers can't even catch a walking miner on horseback!

"Stupid guards." He muttered. "Stupid Crafter, who just won't die! And even stupider wizardy dude who messed up my plans!" And left him with a burn mark on his butt, too. Now the prince can't sit down properly because he had a burn on his gluteus maximus and couldn't bear the humiliation of having a physician look at it. He'd be the laughing stock of the century!

Tevon scowled again, twisting his features up even more. Now how was he supposed to prove himself to be a hero and get in Notch's Elites? And he can't even take it out on the stupid "Steve" character now! The Crafter doesn't really matter now, though, not once the Aether is alerted of his "crimes". A petty smirk formed on Tevon's arrogant pie-hole. The Aetherians are gonna hunt Steve down and preferably kill him brutally. Now the stupid Crafter has to watch out for more than just Herobrine!

Wait a moment...

The words "hunt" and "Herobrine" slowly came together in the prince's extremely slow mind, followed by the word "fame". Tevon grinned. If he wanted to get in the Rangers... All he has to do is to kill the Creator's worst enemy. He'll get more than just a ticket into the Elites, he'd get his name written down in history! He just has to kill one teeny, tiny ghost. With his skill with a sword, and his *ahem* _borrowed_ weapon, it should be easy! Maybe a few guards to witness the deed as well...

Tevon felt pleased with his stupid self. Now all he has to do is to figure out Herobrine's location _._

* * *

We hurtled through the forest, stopping occasionally to catch our breath. Behind us, the zombies moaned and skeleton arrows whizzed past, none actually coming close to hitting. The villagers had given up the chase long ago. Why do I repeatedly end up having to run away these past few days?

"Can't we just... dig ourselves into a hole and... cover the top with dirt?" I panted.

Horus shook his head. "Either the zombies smell you and dig you up, or the creepers literally blow your cover." he replied.

"What about... obsidian?" I suggested.

"If you have enough to build a box, we can do that. But we don't have _any_ obsidian right now." He replied dryly. Of course he'd know. He still has everything that was in my Inventory save my sword, which he had given to me not long ago.

"Where are... we going?"

"A... friend of mine. I wasn't planning on going there originally, as she doesn't like unexpected visitors." He answered. His dark blue cloak flapped behind him and seemed to be nothing but a hindrance.

"How... long?" I gasped. Even Horus was beginning to run out of breath now. Seriously, why does he even wear that cloak of his? It's only slowing him down at the moment.

We ran into a dead end. There was a cliff right in front of us, and if we'd tried to climb over then we'd definitely get shot, even with the skeletons' extraordinary skill at hitting things five miles away from the intended target. The forest closed around us menacingly, as if trying to swallow us up in its murky green depths.

"Crap." Horus muttered. "Miscalculation. Forgot she lived on a cliff." Good one there. Remind me to thank your bad memory when we burn in the Nether.

The first zombies had caught up by now, and they shuffled forwards, moaning. Luckily, they didn't have weapons or armour.

I drew my sword and got into a fighting stance. Behind me, I heard a rasp of metal signifying the draw of a weapon.

A zombie shuffled in front of the others and made a sloppy lunge at me. I ducked under its swinging arms and flicked my sword in an upward slash. The blade cut through the rotten flesh easily like a hot knife through butter. The head and left arm of the zombie fell away as the rest of it toppled to the ground.

Behind me, something whistled through the air. I ducked instinctively as a scythe-like weapon passed to my left and flew in an arc, cutting all the zombies in half before completing the circle, returning to Horus' hand.

"What was that?" I asked in disbelief. Weapons don't just aim themselves and then return to your hand.

"Pointy object plus slight manipulation of the air equals dead things." Horus answered in a matter-of-fact tone. If I could do maths like he does, maybe I'd stop hating maths classes.

Then the skellies came.

Their arrival was announced by several arrows hissing through the air, none of them actually getting close to us due to aforementioned amazing skill at hitting objects sitting in the opposite direction of the target. I started strafing left and right in order to avoid being shot. I heard a few _pinging_ noises coming from where Horus was, which probably meant he was deflecting the arrows rather than dodging.

I ran towards the skeleton closest to me. It didn't even get the time to react before being reduced to a pile of bones. "This is revenge for my first day in the Overworld." I muttered under my breath.

I heard a whistling sound behind me and ducked instinctively as a stray arrow sailed over my head. I darted towards the offending Mob, running in a zigzag pattern. Upon reaching it I sliced the bow of the second skeleton in half and decapitated it. Then I charged towards my third skeleton.

I may have gotten a bit overconfident, because I barely dodged the arrow this time. It scraped my neck and left a bleeding gash in its wake, fortunately not damaging any arteries. Another arrow came towards me and I ducked behind a nearby tree. Then two more _thunk_ s followed as arrows hit the tree. I shuddered. _That could have being me_. I decided to play it safe and threw my sword instead. It sliced through the spine of the skeleton and downed it for good.

 _Three down, lots to go- oh_.

Horus was standing in front of a pile of bones.

I retrieved my sword and just as I turned around...

I went flying through the air with all the grace of a demented chicken.

 _What just happened-_

 _Bam!_ A fist connected with the side of my face.

Thinking it was Horus, I yelled:"What's the big idea-

Then I saw the Enderman.

"Hey-? Do I know you?" I offered a nervous smile. And got punched in the face in return. "Ow! H-hey! I come from the End too! You might've seen me around the End somewhere!". I looked at Horus, discovering that he is engaged with another bunch of Mobs. His scythe flashed, a gleaming blur in the night, and seemed to glow eerily whenever he zapped a Mob into ashes.

He also appeared to be repeatedly yelling something that sounded suspiciously like : "Carrots! Carrots, carrots carrots _carrots!_ "

" _H'rayka_ _."_ The Enderman hissed, attempting to hit me again. I ducked, narrowly missing being punched again.

"What's a rake-arr? Is it some sort of piratical gardening tool?" I asked in some state of confusion. The Enderman gave me a puzzled look, like he was trying to figure out what was going on. I took my opportunity and darted forwards while he was distracted and quickly kicked the Enderman's feet out from under him. He fell with a grunt, and was just preparing to teleport away when the edge of my sword bit through his neck. I sighed. Killing Endermen never felt right with me, even if they were the ones trying to kill me in the first place. I picked up the Enderman's Ender Pearl and stowed it in my Inventory as an afterthought.

The nearest Mob was another skeleton aiming a bow in my face, so I chucked my sword and split its skull in half before I could get turned into a pincushion.

Just as I turned to retrieve my sword, a flash of green flickered across the edge of my vision.

A creeper was sneaking up on Horus, very quietly.

 _Crap_. I cursed mentally. _Had to happen just after I throw my sword._

I cried out in warning as the the Mob began to flash white. Then just before the creeper detonated, he flicked the edge of the cloak and swept it up in front of him so it was between him and the creeper.

 _BOOM_.

I flung up my arms to shield my face from the flying debris that wanted to harm it. When it was over I slowly opened my eyes. Horus' cloak fluttered back down to its normal place without so much as a scratch. Horus also appeared to by undamaged.

My mind slowly put two and two together. "Oh," I said in surprise. "So that's what your cloak does."

He moved back and looked up expectantly.

Something zipped past and hit a Mob, dropping it instantly. Then what seemed like a storm of fiery arrows arced down from above and reduced the remaining Mobs to piles of items. The rest of the Mobs retreated, looking up fearfully.

A familiar figure with fiery orange hair dropped down on a rope and aimed her bow at me. She lowered it after a second. Oh, so that's who the 'friend' was.

"Steve." Alex said in greeting. Her eyes moved to my left and widened in shock. "And... Horus? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Carrots. You took your sweet time there." Horus appeared next to me so suddenly that I jumped.

"Wait... Carrots?" I mumbled. Then shut my mouth when Alex shot me a death glare. "And you two know each other?" I asked quite pointlessly.

Alex looked at us suspiciously, as if we might be zombies in disguise. "What are you doing here?"

I tried to speak, but Horus beat me to it. "Long story short, Steve... got drunk and decided to become a pyromaniac."

"Let's not do this out here." Alex sighed. "The Mobs may be slightly fearful of me, but that only means they'll come back with their friends as well."

She walked over to a boulder and reached under it, pulling a hidden lever (wait, we could have just done that?!). A hidden passageway opened in the cliff face.

"Come on." She called impatiently. "Let's get up there already."

* * *

So, Alex. I'd run into her once chasing down a thief who had stolen some of my stuff. Turned out the same person had stolen from her as well, so we'd teamed up together to catch the culprit. Then I'd run into her a second time when me and a group of us Elites were killing off a Mob congregation. The same Kingdom had hired her as a sell-sword for the same job, so we fought together again. The third time I met her was when she came to the Aether to file a complaint to Notch on a corrupt royal family. The waiting line for Notch's attention at that time was probably 100 people long and 1000 people deep, so I'd offered to let her stay at my house. Somewhere along the line we decided to become friends, though I haven't the foggiest idea when (probably the time she hit me in the face with a frying pan and I decided to be nice and not hit her back).

"Funny." I said to Alex. "I've known you for eight years but I've never been to your house, though you've been to mine even if it was up in the Aether."

"An experience I never want to repeat again." Alex scowled. "Your house looked like a place silverfish would thrive in. Not to mention your snobby neighbours..." she shuddered. "One of the advantages to living on the top of a cliff is that you don't get annoying neighbors, scheming door-to-door salesmen or fishy " _friends"_ turning up at entirely the wrong hour." she gave Horus the stink eye. Which had zero effect on him.

Yes, laugh away. Right now, the only two people I can trust are both hermits. Though if I said that out loud Alex would most likely drop an anvil on my head. Her aim with anvils and frying pans were legendary. They should make a song about that and scare little kids with it instead of the senseless Herobrine poem.

Alex's house looked like it would contain more than ten inhabitants comfortably, and was decorated in such a fancy way it looked like someone was getting ready for Notchmas. The fenced garden was enormous, with its own pond, farm plot, chicken pen and Mob head collection. There was also a stone statue of someone who looked like me (though I couldn't quite make it out in the dark) with a target attached to its face and around fifty arrows stuck in it. I almost felt sorry for the guy. Horus made a small sound that could have been a chuckle when he saw it.

We stopped in front of the door (of course we did. There was absolutely no point in crashing into it). Alex opened it and stopped us just before we went in.

"Wait a minute." She whispered, peeking through the opening cautiously. "I gotta make sure _he's_ not in h- _Yowch!_ " What seemed like a giant russet furball shot out of the house and bowled Alex to the ground, where it proceeded to give her a thorough licking.

"Bad puppy!" Alex yelped, trying unsuccessfully to shove the animal off her. I bit back a laugh. The fearsome, invincible warrior Alex defeated by a mere dog. Her enemies shall rejoice. There were so many of them they wouldn't all fit on a small continent.

Alex finally managed to get the excited beast to stop licking her and sat up. "Ugh!" She spat, attempting to wipe the saliva off her face. The dog just sat by her side and whined. Wait- did I say dog?

The enormous animal was at least as big as a horse. It looked almost like a rust-coloured wolf, except for, well, basically everything that wasn't its head. It had two long, slender tails ending in wicked barbs of bone, short, stubby spikes sticking out of its spine, four paws socked in scarcely visible flames, and slitted yellow eyes that shed their own light.

"Nice." Horus commented. I gave a start, surprised. He hadn't spoken for some time. "Where'd you get a pet Netherwolf from, Carrots?"

"Sylder Forest is known for its unusual inhabitants." Alex grumbled. "This thing just followed me home one day. It's still a puppy though, so it doesn't know how to speak yet." She glared at Horus. "Also, do _not_ call me Carrots ever again." Yes, Sylder Forest is indeed known for its unusual inhabitants. Alex being a prime example.

She turned and led us inside.

Her house was very brightly lit, and it was all very neat in there. Definitely better than my house on a good day.

"I didn't expect visitors, so I didn't make an effort to tidy this place."

"You wouldn't bother cleaning up even if you _did_ know we were coming." I snorted. Then thought better of it. "I mean, it's already very tidy. Like the Aether Labs." Alex threw me a dirty look.

"I mean, _before_ Jeb manages to blow it up." I added hastily. She ignored me this time, fortunately. The _evangar_ sat near Horus' feet and lowered its head, as if bowing to an old master. Horus bent down and seemed to whisper something into its ear while absentmindedly stroking it.

Suddenly I felt very tired. I yawned, and then tried to cover my mouth. My headache, which had been forgotten in the rush of adrenalin from fighting, came back even worse. My head suddenly felt like something stuck on an anvil with a hammer coming down on it repeatedly.

"I- gotta... go * _yawn*_ sleep." I managed to get out.

Alex just waved to one of the rooms. Horus didn't seem to hear, he was too busy stroking the wolf's fur. I dragged myself in and simply collapsed on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

Sleep came as soon as my head hit the pillowless mattress.

* * *

 _A young boy laughed as he ran on the faintly glowing surface of the End. Above him, the perpetually dark skies were filled with winking stars. An equally young Enderman followed after him, looking slightly out of breath._

 _"_ Wait up!" _the Enderman puffed._

 _"What, can't you keep up now, Sirras?" the boy's violet eyes sparkled as he grinned._

 _The Enderman looked none too pleased._ "If you'd let me teleport, I'd beat you in seconds!" _._

 _"But what's the fun in that?" the boy asked. "I can't teleport, so all I'd be doing is losing!"_

 _The Enderman suddenly got a mischievous look on his face. He teleported an inch away from the boy and tagged him. "_ You're it! _" he shouted, jumping back, smirking._

 _"Hey!" the boy shouted. "Foul play!"_

 _The Enderman grinned, standing barely four meters in front of the boy. "_ Come and get me _now,_ if you can."

 _The boy leapt forwards, and the Enderman flickered away. "_ You can't get me!"

 _The boy growled something under his breath. Suddenly, the boy disappeared in a shower of Ender Particles and reappeared next to the Enderman, crashing into him and knocking them both into the ground._

 _"_ Woah!" _the Enderman gasped._ "You can teleport too!"

 _The boy looked a bit dizzy and very confused. "W-what?"_

 _"_ We gotta tell my parents!" _the Enderman took the boy's hand and prepared to teleport away._

 _"_ And..." _he added with a grin:"_ From this day on, we are going to play tag with teleportation allowed!"

* * *

I slowly came back to consciousness like a whale resurfacing after a long dive. My ear was pressed against the wall. Someone was talking, but it was too faint to make out what they were saying.

"Certain people are about awake as a boulder" Alex, from the sound of the voice.

More murmuring. Probably Horus.

"I don't understand. There's something wrong in the End?"

Horus said something that I couldn't hear. He was speaking real quietly.

"You're saying you've felt that thing's signature before, but you're not sure what it is?"

Silence. Maybe a nod.

"Why do you want me to stay here? I could help!"

"Please, Alex." Horus said quietly. "I have my reasons"

The rest of their conversation faded into obscurity as I drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

I woke up on an extremely hard surface, staring at a wooden ceiling. Where was I again?

Oh, right. On Alex's stone floor. I'd fallen off the bed before I woke up. Is that an achievement?

Also, what's up with all these dreams? There'd been more and more of them recently, and the visions were always crystal clear. I could even feel the wind in some of them. Were they real? Maybe I was some sort of seer or something. Well, at least I knew the dream about Xeraph was real, because a few years ago he'd figured out how to link people's dreams and all that and filled quite a few of my dreams with images of rainbow Endermites dancing in a meadow. I'd developed insomnia before he'd seen fit to stop.

I sat up, and immediately fell back down again. A night of sleeping on the stone floor had obviously not done any favours for my back. After a few attempts, I managed to get myself upright.

Maybe Horus can answer the dream problem? Or not, because while he didn't look angry last night (at all), I have a feeling he's pissed at me. Maybe drinking wasn't such a good idea?

I went towards the door and tripped on a hard object, falling to the floor with a loud _thump_. I got up and inspected the mischievous culprit. On closer inspection, the culprit was a wooden chest containing all my gear. Except the flint and steel. The empty spot where the flint and steel should have been seemed to glare at me pointedly. I winced a little. Okay, maybe Horus _was_ a little bit angry. Just maybe.

After stashing everything back into my Inventory, I made my way to the front door. There's no point in staying in the house all day, doing nothing.

As soon as I stepped out of the door, I was met with a face full of excited Netherwolf.

"No! Ashariel! Bad wolf!" Alex yelled as the wolf bowled me over and covered me with saliva.

The wolf got off my chest and bounded back to Alex.

"Uhhhh" I groaned. The zombies would have mistaken me as one of their own. Notch could assign me as a spy- oh wait, he'd just stick me in prison.

Alex gave me a hand up, seemingly impervious to the drool on every inch of my clothing.

"You're up" she noted. Her flame coloured hair was tied back in a rough ponytail and her forest green eyes seemed to have an extra shine to them like she _wasn't_ staying up all night talking to a certain someone. The Netherwolf sat at her feet, golden eyes sparkling playfully.

"Uh, yeah. Where's Horus, by the way?" I asked while attempting to scrape the wolf spit off with the edge of my pickaxe.

"He forgot the fact that humans needed to rest and apparently didn't sleep for the last four days." Alex replied. "As of now, he is conked out in bed." she scowled. "Fortunately he didn't forget that humans also have to eat."

I glanced at my clock. "It's... almost midday. Not like him to sleep in."

Alex shrugged. "Didn't sleep for the past four days, remember? Oh, and. -" She paused for a bit, throwing a cautious look at the house as if to make sure Horus wouldn't hear. "-When he wakes up, don't go near him for at least half an hour. He will be in a very foul mood."

"Sooo, Carrots-"

 _Clang-ang-ang-ang_

I groaned, clutching the side of my face as I tried to recover from the blow dealt by Alex's frying pan. "W-what's with you and frying pans?" I asked, head still ringing. She smiled sweetly at me as she put the menacing object away. "Don't call me Carrots" she hissed.

"A-Anyway," I said, trying to change the subject and painfully aware of the sore face. "The _evangi_ is named Ashariel?"

Alex smiled, patting the wolf. "Not until yesterday. Horus insisted. Though why, I don't know either. He doesn't talk very often, so when he does, it's usually worth listening to."

"Doesn't talk often? He seemed pretty normal to me. Well, aside from _everything_ else." I said, surprised.

"Usually when he talks, it's to make a death threat" Alex shrugged again.

"What's up with him?"

"Just a Crafter of few words, I guess." Alex looked away. "Anyway, what do you want him for?"

"I know this sounds crazy..." I shifted uncomfortably. "But I've been having these weird dreams lately... they feel so, well, _real_." I'd half expected her to laugh at me but she seemed to take it seriously.

Alex contemplated what I said. "What did you dream about? Give me an example."

I thought about it. "A castle/fortress thing practically blown to pieces by a mass creeper attack and dead Mobs lying everywhere. There was a guy in the middle of it who was somehow still alive with a scythe thing next to him." Then I realised something. "Wait, the scythe thingy looked exactly the same as the one Horus has!"

"Hmmm. Well, there's this explanation for dreams like this." Alex thought for a moment. "When big things happen, memories remain, and the universe tends to..." She searched for the right word.

"Echo them." came a voice from right behind me. I yelped and did a 360 in the air. And found my face three inches away from Horus'.

Cobalt blue eyes stared into mine coolly.

I took a step back and fell over, landing on my butt. Nearby, Alex laughed loudly. "You know, Steve," she chortled. "If you _do_ end up losing your job, you can always become a comedian."

"Glad to see you noticed my talents." I grouched, picking myself up off the ground.

"The universe tends to echo them" Horus repeated, unruffled. "And when people go near to an object that was in the memory, or goes to the place where it happened... They see the echoes." he looked very tired, as if he hadn't slept all night, but his voice remained smooth. He was wearing his usual black t-shirt, blue pants, and leather boots. Oh yeah, don't forget the magical cloak. He ran a hand through his raven black curls, smoothing down the stray hair. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed, and still needed six hours of sleep.

"Besides, the 'scythe thingy' is a single bladed pickaxe."

"So what's causing them? I'm pretty sure I haven't been near the places where those things happened." I was a bit confused. By this point, Alex had left the conversation in order to satisfy her wolf's urge to play fetch. I could see the monster jumping over the house after the stick at times.

Instead of answering, he pulled the blade he always fought with out of his Inventory and held tin front of him. The sunlight hit the weapon, causing it to flash brilliantly silver, gleaming with a somewhat surreal light.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked. It looked like something made by a god.

He ignored me and put the pickaxe back. "It's time to go."

"Now? You look like you need another twelve hours of sleep!" I protested. He just gave me a pointed look that said _Well, whose fault is that?_

Feeling guilty, I clammed up and went to say goodbye to Alex.

* * *

We were back in the forest before long, walking our backsides off again. How big even _is_ thing? And Nether, was it noisy. Birds everywhere, insects chirping in the trees. Horus, on the contrary, was keeping himself entirely silent. I attempted multiple times to start a conversation with him with minimal success.

"What was the name of the other person who was raised in the End?" I asked as I ducked under a swinging branch. Horus, as usual, simply ignored me.

I got a little fed up with him. Sure, he didn't like to talk, but that doesn't mean he had to ignore me _every single damned time._

"Look. I'm tired of you ignoring me like I'm not there when I ask a question. We're traveling together and you won't even _speak_ to me!" I snapped, losing my patience.

Horus spun around, blue eyes blazing. I held his stare, even though I wanted to crawl away and die inside. In situations like this, to look away now is a sign of inferiority.

After a moment. he sighed and closed his eyes.

"Aritas" he said softly. "His name was Aritas."

When he opened his eyes again there was a haunting sadness in its sapphire depths.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned around and walked on.

After a few paces, he suddenly stopped. I almost crashed into him, barely managing to stop myself as I slipped and fell to the ground from the unexpected stop.

"What is it _this_ time?" I snapped in irritation, picking myself up grumpily and brushing the leaves from my clothes.

"I smell smoke" he murmured absentmindedly. Then he broke into a sprint at breakneck pace. I cursed and ran after him, struggling to keep up with all the branches lashing at my unprotected face.

Then, just as I thought I'd lost him, I rounded a corner in the bush and stopped just outside the forest.

In front of me was a picture of chaos and carnage. There was a town, a quite nice town at that- or would have been if it wasn't on fire. The rooftops were all ablaze like giant Notchmas candles, and the people in the streets were all running around like headless sheep, screaming their heads off. Dead bodies lay on the streets- mostly animals, but there was the occasional decapitated human (if there were any dead Crafters they would have disintegrated into piles of gear).

And standing in front of it all was Horus, staring at the scene with unreadable eyes.

I jogged to his side. "What's going on?!" I had to shout above the cacophony to make myself heard.

As if in answer, a Testificate stumbled towards us and fell to his knees, staring up at me with imploring green eyes.

"Please, travellers!" he begged. "Save our village!"

"What's going on here?" I asked while helping him to his feet.

"T-the White Eyed One." He breathed, tears of fright forming in his eyes. "Herobrine has come."

* * *

 _Alex (at ten years old in Crafter age)_

* * *

Alex sniffled, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She gritted her teeth and picked up the bow lying at her feet. Drawing the bowstring back, she aimed, and fired. The arrow whizzed past the burnt and crumbling buildings and missed the slowly shambling zombie by a meter, joining the other used arrows stuck on the ground in the zombie's wake. The zombie shuffled towards her like nothing had happened.

Alex threw down her bow in frustration, wiping her eyes on a sooty sleeve. It wasn't fair! The village had absolutely nil Mob invasions for the past century (or so she had been told) it didn't make sense that one would happen now. She could still remember her father pushing her into the cellar as vividly as day, still feel his final hug, wrapped around her like a protective cloak, still hear the screams ringing in her ears as she hid in the safety of her cellar, curled into a ball. The wail of loss from her mother... and the worst of all, the utter silence that ensued, broken occasionally by the crackling of fire and the loud munching of the zombies feeding. For all their superior sense of smell, the zombies hadn't found her, though she heard creepers detonating and the screams of the other children as they were dragged from their shelters, then abruptly silenced.

A cough broke through her chain of thought. She whirled towards it, fists raised.

A boy with dark sapphire eyes and jet black hair, looking no more than ten years old (like her) stood next to the burnt out shell of a building that used to belong to her next door neighbor, out of sight of the approaching zombie.

"I'd suggest using that bow to shoot the zombie, instead of trying to break it." He said casually, leaning against the remains of the door frame.

Alex looked at him suspiciously. He certainly wasn't from her town, and since this was on the top of a mountain in the middle of the wilderness, what sort of little boy in his right mind would come here?

"What are you doing here?" She questioned the boy with a no-nonsense look while picking up her bow again.

"I'm older than I look." He replied. "Crafter" he added as an afterthought.

Alex became aware of the zombie approaching her, now not far away. She lifted the bow.

But before she could shoot, the boy was suddenly beside her. He moved her arm a bit to the right and adjusted her stance so she was side on. He placed his hands beside hers on the bow and drew back, an arrow popping onto the bowstring with a fizz and a crack of orange light. He moved back and looked at her expectantly.

"Now would be a good time to shoot." he advised. Too surprised to do anything otherwise, Alex did what she was told. The arrow arced towards the zombie and embedded itself in its left eye socket. The zombie went down and disintegrated into a pile of rotten flesh. Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust. _That_ _was_ _for_ _my_ _parents_. She said mentally.

"What are you doing out here?" the boy asked. "I know you are a Crafter, so why didn't you build yourself a shelter?"

"Avenging my friends and parents" she said in a sad tone. "I'll become a Mob hunter when I grow up" her fists tightened on her bow. " They say Herobrine commands the Mobs. One day, ghost or not. I'll find him and put an end to him. For my family" the last part she said in a whisper. The boy winced at the last four sentences, but Alex didn't notice.

"Well, that's great and all, but now we really must find you a shelter" he turned on his heels and walked away. "Follow me!" he called after him.

Alex snapped out of her trance and ran after the black-haired boy. "Wait! I don't even know your name yet!"

* * *

 **Lemme do a bit of explaining.**

 **Crafters age slower than regular humans. 'Crafter Age' is basically the age the Crafter looks like. One Crafter year is roughly two human years. A Crafter, once they reach a certain age past ten Crafter years will simply stop ageing. The age-stop is random. You might stay young in your teenage years forever or get old and have to deal with arthritis for the rest of your very, very long life.**

 **Crafters do not die unless killed by sickness, poison, or sharp objects. And the occasional creeper or TNT explosion and drowning. Of course, don't forget pure noobishness. That can kill, too.**

 **When they die, Crafters have a 10% chance of respawning. That again, is completely random. You can die a heroic death and not respawn or commit suicide and fail miserably (that just teaches you committing suicide is stupid).**

 **When a Crafter dies, they leave behind a body and all the possessions in their Inventory whether they respawn or not. Notch's Rangers do not leave bodies when they die and respawn.**


	9. Herobrine?

Chapter Nine: Herobrine

* * *

"Herobrine" I muttered, rolling the name around in my mouth. "Herobrine" Horus was _still_ not back from wherever he disappeared to, and that in itself was making me nervous.

The people shifted uncomfortably and I stopped. Gathered around us were a small band of survivors from the town of Wood's End. "Are you sure it was him?"

The people nodded fervently. "White eyes, diamond sword, fireballs coming out of his hands." A woman shouted from the back of the group. "I saw him, jumping across the rooftops as easily as a boy hopping onto a stair"

I thought about it. I couldn't send for help now, I'd gotten banned from the Aether. I could only take him on alone.

"Please" the woman begged. "My children are in the cellar"

I pulled my sword from my Inventory and held it up high. "Look!" Someone whisper in the crowd. "He's on of Notch's Elites! See that insignia on the hilt of his sword?" Well, they obviously don't know I was wanted for murder. I took that as a good sign.

I did my best grim smile, putting on a theatrical facade. "Friends!" I called out. "If I am not back by afternoon, go to the nearest town and find help there. Pass on the word that Steve of the Elites has perished. In return, I will do my best to rid your village of this menace." If Herobrine was indeed a ghost, there was a chance that I would not respawn if killed. If he was a god, then I would _definitely_ not respawn.

A ragged cheer rose from the crowd. I suppose that's the best I'll get under these circumstances. I turned on my heel and marched toward the burning village, my head raised high. I think they bought the dramatic act. No need to tell them I was just looking for a fight to pick. Besides, there was no way it was actually who they made it out to be. There hadn't been so much as a peep of Him for thirty-three years.

* * *

I stood in front of the village, scanning for the intruder.

"So, have you found out the cause of this yet?"

I jumped about five feet in the air.

"Gah! Stop doing that!" I shouted, heart hammering like crazy.

Horus merely shrugged. "It's your own fault you don't pay attention to your surroundings"

"Where were you, anyway?" there was a smell of something burnt coming from him, which suggested he had been inside the town.

He nodded in the general direction of Wood's End. "There was a nutcase jumping across the rooftops, setting fire to everything" he said. "I didn't get a clear look at them"

"Well, about that-"

A fireball hit the ground to my right, and my sword came out in a flash- just in time to deflect the second one, headed straight for me.

A heavily built man in diamond armor dropped out of nowhere. He was holding a diamond sword in one hand, and a sphere of flames in the other.

"What are you?!" I shouted above the crackling of flames. The man shook the stringy brown hair out of his face, revealing dull white eyes.

Oops.

"I AM HEROBRINE!" he bellowed.

"Charming" Horus deadpanned. Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and walked off, as casually as anything.

"Hey!" I yelled. "I need some backup here! Fighting an evil immortal spirit!"

"You'll be be fine" Horus replied in a voice so bored it could reduce someone to tears. "Call for me when you're done with him"

I stared speechlessly as he vanished out of sight. The white eyed man flexed his muscles and grinned. "Ha! Your friend has been scared off! If you value your life, you would follow his example"

Actually, Horus did not look like he was scared at all. Just mind-blowing boredom and a complete lack of interest.

I raised my sword. The man saw it, or more significantly, the insignia of a bull carved on its hilt. Suddenly he seemed unnerved.

"Yes, be afraid" I brandished the sword. "I am an Elite, a warrior of Notch. Go back to the hole you crawled out of or face my wrath" I waved the sword around. And did it some more, attempting to scare him away.

However, that tactic didn't work. The man laughed mockingly. "I will simply have to crush you like I did to the others" with that, he charged. Typical villains.

I angled my blade so the sunlight bounced off its extremely reflective surface and into those white eyes. The man shouted in pain and stumbled to a halt. I rapped his knuckles hard with the flat of my blade, forcing him to drop his sword. But I'd forgotten one thing- the fireball he still held in his hand. He threw it at me and I twisted to the side to avoid being turned into a barbecue, giving him plenty of time to pick his sword up again. He jumped impossibly high, landing behind me and lashing out with the sword. I swung my own blade over my head and blocked his strike from the behind before it buried itself in my back. I spun around so I was facing him and made a stab at his thigh, which was blocked with unnatural speed. He lunged forwards and I jumped to the left, not quite avoiding the edge of his blade. A shallow gash formed on my right leg, sending twinges of pain shooting through the limb every time I moved.

I gritted my teeth and leapt back, dodging another fireball on the way. He was simply too strong for me to handle, and soon I'd tire out if I kept this up.

Not giving me to time think, he rushed forwards again. A shower of sparks fell as our weapons clashed together, obscuring my vision for a brief moment. I quickly leapt back before he could try anything funny. A brick fell off a nearby building, and an inkling of an idea formed in my head.

I blew a raspberry and bolted towards the town, skidding to a stop once I was under one of the buildings. I hastily blocked a swing of his sword and widened my eyes. "Oh my Notch!" I gasped dramatically, pointing over his shoulder. "What the Nether is that?!"

Oldest entry in the Classic Tricks for Dummies 101, but I'm not gonna complain if it worked.

The white-eyed man spun around, looking where I pointed. I fished the Ender Pearl I had gotten earlier out of my Inventory and chucked it onto the roof of a building. Materializing in a shower of sparks, I winced from the aftershock and watched as he looked this way and that, wondering where I'd suddenly flown off to. I tossed an itemized object from hand to hand, and grinned evilly.

 _Clang_!

I dropped an anvil on top of him. He went down like a sack of fertilizer. I carefully made my way down and picked up my anvil.

"I will not be defeated-"

 _Wak_.

Turns out the diamond helmet protected him from most of the damage. I hit him with the flat of my blade.

"By a mere-"

I got utterly fed up and took off his helmet and smacked him with the anvil.

 _Bang_

After that, he finally shut up. Might have something to do with the fact he was unconscious.

"Had fun?"

I whirled around and shook my fist in Horus' face. "You! Walking away and leaving me to deal with the most dangerous entity in existence-"

"And who might that be?"

"Herobrine! This guy here!" I waved my sword at the unconscious dude on the ground.

A look of amusement flitted across Horus' face. "Let me show you something"

He produced a bucket of water from his Inventory and set it on the ground. Then he pried open the man's eyes and shoved his head into the bucket, sloshing it around a few times. Surprisingly, he didn't wake up.

He lifted the guy's head out of the bucket and opened his eyes for me to see. Instead of dull white like they were, they were now a uninteresting brown.

"So... the guy was just a guy on potions all along?" I asked, disappointed. Damn, I tried so hard, too!

Horus inclined his head slightly. "Fire magician. Speed Potion, Strength Potion, Leaping Potion still in effect" Now that he mentioned it, I can see the potion particles rising off the dude.

The said dude groaned, and tried to climb to his feet. Horus splashed a bucket of milk in his face and the potion particles vanished. The guy suddenly paled. I picked up the bucket of water and swung it into the side of his head, knocking him out again. Then Horus tied him up with a leash and gave the end to me.

I started dragging the guy back to where the villagers were. Behind me, I heard the snap of a finger and suddenly the crackling of flames went silent.

* * *

It was the village elder, Leroy, who saw me first. A full sized cheer rose from the gathered people as they saw me dragging the 'Herobrine' up the hill. I got my leg bandaged, and quickly explained what happened, and who the guy actually was, then left him at the mercy of the angry villagers. After I gave him a solid slap for the trouble.

Horus was waiting for me when I got back to the burnt town. "What's our next stop?" I asked as we started walking again.

"Iron Hills. Used to be a series of mineshafts, until some Griefers blew the whole place to high Aether. They've built a City on top of the collapsed cave system"

* * *

We arrived at the outskirts of the city just as the sun started setting. Horus did a magicky thingy with illusions and got us past the guards easily. We went to a hotel that was simply named 'Iron Hills Hotel' (gee, I wonder why).

"Be careful" Horus said as we traipsed up to our room. "Notch rarely sends his people here, so the criminal activity is through the roof. Watch out for the slave hunters"

"Slave hunters?!" I wasn't sure I heard right. Wasn't that banned a few thousand years ago?

But he didn't seem to hear me. He'd opened the door and was already lying down in one of the beds. The speed and silence that guy does things are extraordinary.

"I'm going to do a bit a shopping for provisions" I said. No response. "Well, see you" I turned and walked out, shutting the door gently behind me.

I went downstairs and asked the manager a few questions. Yes, they did have a market, and yes, it was open at this time of the day (night, actually).

I followed the directions the guy gave me, and sure enough, found myself at the market. There were stalls selling all sorts of things, from horses to dyes. I considered getting a horse, but decided against it as none of them looked fit for long distance journeys.

I wandered over to a potions stall and grabbed a few potions. I paid the stall owner with a diamond and left to go to the tool shop. As much as it embarrassed me to say this, I do need to replace my flint and steel. Right now I didn't have the flint to craft one myself, and it only cost two iron ingots anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bulky guy dressed in leather armor, with an axe strapped across his back. He was staring straight at me.

I shrugged it off, telling myself it was probably nothing, and continued with my wandering.

After some time, I gradually became aware of the same guy seemingly following me everywhere. Sometimes he'd be talking to other people, but wherever I went, I could always see him. I began to suspect he was following me.

What I did next was probably a very stupid move, but I did it anyway (who said I wasn't stupid?). I deliberately walked away from the market, towards the quieter parts of the city. I spotted an alleyway that I assumed was a dead end and strolled down it.

Soft footsteps behind, stopping when I stopped, starting when I did, creeping closer and closer. A normal person would not have been able to hear it, but due to my enhanced Elite senses, I could hear every step. And it wasn't just one person.

I turned a corner and found myself at a dead end, just as I hoped. Behind me, the footsteps grew louder and louder, not even attempting to be quiet now.

"Are you lost, little boy?" Sang a voice from behind me. Raucous laughter followed. I didn't bother turning around. "That one would fetch a nice price on the market"

Ah. So they were slave traders. All the more reason to whip their behinds and hand them in to the guards on silver platters.

I turned around and scrutinized them calmly. An unsightly company of men with a variety of mismatched weapons and armor blocked the exit. The thugs stared back, most likely wondering how much I'd sell for.

"I know a few ladies who'd pay a lot for his pretty face" one guffaws. I frowned and touched my face, imagining it framed on a wall. "I'd like to keep my face to myself, thank you very much"

"Slaves don't have belongings" another said, unfurling a whip. "Get on your knees, boy" he held a knife in his other hand. When I didn't respond, he came up to me and shoved the blunt side of the knife against my throat. My hand went behind my back, ready to summon my weapon at a moment's notice.

"I _said_ -" the brute began.

"I know what you said" I interrupted. Before he could react, I leapt back out of knife range with my sword flashing out of my Inventory. I jabbed my sword upwards. A spray of blood fountained from his wrist as he screamed, running for the exit. One down.

"Who's next?" I said casually, sticking my sword point-first into the pavement. There was a slight lull as total silence fell over the place like a shroud, then all six remaining slave traders leapt at me, weapons swinging.

I grabbed a wrist belonging to a guy holding a crude stone sword, and gave it a hard twist. Then I kicked someone else in the groin, stabbed another person in the armpit, and bounced a block of cobblestone off someone's head. I backed away to make sense off it all. I could barely tell who was who from the tangle of limbs.

The men stepped back too. They eyed me warily. I wondered why they weren't running away yet, because common thugs are usually very easy to scare off.

"Why are you doing this?" I tried to reason with them. "You could make an honest living. Go take up farming, for example" Fat chance, that.

The guy with the axe spoke up. "We weren't really after _you_. It's your friend we're interested in. You're just a bonus. So do yourself a favour and tell me where your friend is, and we might let you go" he grinned, showing off a mouthful of surprisingly shiny teeth.

"What makes you sure it's us you're looking for? We're just random travelers going to, uh... the Aether... yes, the Aether! You know, to make a complaint"

Axe Guy snorted. "You're hard to miss. A guy with strange blue eyes, he says. With another guy who has strange purple eyes, he says. He wants the guy with the blue eyes- gonna give anyone who catches him a chest full of diamonds, he-"

"Looking for me?" Came a silky voice from the mouth of the alley. I looked towards the source of the sound.

A slender silhouette stood in the moonlight, then began walking towards us. I scowled. "Have you been stalking me again?"

Horus shook his head. Then nodded. "I was actually following these guys" he flicked a finger in the thugs' direction. "They'd been following us since we came through the gates. So I followed you when you went outside"

"Next time you decide to go fishing with me as bait, can I have some warning first?"

Meanwhile, the thugs looked back and forth between us while we bantered. Then Axe Guy finally lost his patience. "For diamonds!" He shouted, charging.

" _Jierda_ "

Axe Guy shrieked in pain as both of his legs suddenly bent out of shape with a wet snapping sound, tumbling to the ground in a graceless pile.

"What just happened?" I yelped, looking around for hidden assassins. Horus blew smoke off his fingers theatrically, in a rather smug fashion.

The rest of the men scattered like chickens in the the presence of an ocelot.

Before you could say "Duck", my traveling companion blurred into action. Within moments, most of the thugs were either decapitated, burnt to a crisp, or both. I snapped to my senses and ran after the rampaging magician.

"Stop!" I shouted, catching his arm in a tight hold. A bolt of light misfired and splashed harmlessly against a wall, forming a massive sheet of ice.

Horus turned to look at me quizzically. "You don't have to kill them!" I yelled.

His expression froze, and the temperature seemed to suddenly drop to minus ten degrees. "It is a necessity" he said coldly. Before I could stop him, he spun around and hurled his pickaxe. Halfway to the entrance of the alley, the last man dropped.

He turned back to the guy with the axe and lifted him up by his collar. The man whimpered like a child.

"Who's paying you?" Horus asked in a dangerously soft tone.

"A-a guy from Arcopolis" the guy said quickly.

Arcopolis. The Golden City. Where the most powerful magicians go.

"How many people are after me?"

"Everyone who wants the bounty" the guy replied, suddenly sounding confident again. He smiled, showing his now-bloodied teeth. "They want you, Peregrine. They want you _bad_. If I was you, I'd let me go. There's others who-"

I turned away quickly just before a sickening _thump_ filled the air as the severed head hit the ground.

For a moment there was just silence.

Then I walked away unsteadily, feeling something numb spread through my chest. Horus didn't call after me.

* * *

 **A** / **N: Still banned. I had to wrestle with my laggy phone to actually put the words in where I wanted them, so there may be a few errors.**

 **Evangi= Netherwolves (plural)**

 **Evangar= Netherwolf (singular)**

 **P.S: I know some people are disappointed I haven't actually put Herobrine in properly, but he's playing a major part in the story. You'll find out how later.**


	10. Trouble Brewing (As Always)

**Sorry it took so long to update this chapter. I may, or may not, have accidentally (believe me when I say I didn't mean to) started to write another two stories while I kept you waiting... I am very good at procrastinating. So now I'm alternating between this story and another one (luckily one of them was a one-shot so doesn't need anymore updating) and there may be longer waits in-between chapters...**

 **Woops.**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Trouble Brewing

* * *

Cold. Warm. Bright. Dark. Empty. Crowded.

Improbable.

The Void of Nothing.

He remembered it all too well, having escaped from its clutches forty-two years ago after his brother killed him for the second time. He wasn't very bitter about, as he had killed his brother twice as well, the annoying pest returning from the Void each time, as he had. Besides, he had managed to take his brother with him, even with the amount of reinforcements he had. He considered that an achievement.

Standing on the top of a ruined cathedral, the hooded figure surveyed the once-majestic castle, now nothing more than a pile of rubble. The only surviving building was the central building where the doomed battle had started. It was a well-organised attempt, but even badly injured and still recovering from yet another skirmish with his idiot brother which left him weak and powerless (as well as another giant hole in the ground where they fought), the 'victim' had been too skilled for the masses of Mobs. Perhaps he had turned sentimental, but a whim had lead him here again thirty-three years after the fortress' fall. He was not normally a whimsical person.

He closed his eyes and sighed, reaching into his own mind. Even as a fallen god, he could still sense the five Realms that made up this- this _shambles_ of a world.

The aura of the Nether was burning a bloody shade of red, as always. That was good. It meant no Voidmatter had leaked in, and that the Realm was still healthy and functioning- under his _aegis_. And it also meant the Guardian of the Nether, which was the Wither, was alive and well. Though often he itched to unleash bloody chaos and tear the Realm apart (he could destroy a world with no more thought than lifting a finger, it's preserving what matters that's hard), he resisted the urge because while Notch did not care for _his_ Realm, it would bring him to Notch's attention and lead to another fight, and he tended to go out of his way to avoid them. Notch may lack the actual power to defeat him by himself, but _he_ did not relish the thought of dripping blood everywhere for however long the inevitable injuries took to heal.

The ethereal dark silver aura of the Twilight Forest and the brilliant blue-and-green of the Overworld was much the same, meaning the Elder Guardian and the creatures that had spawned as the Guardians of the Twilight Forest were still active.

He avoided the bright white-and-gold of the Aether. Looking at it always makes him think negative thoughts. Besides, Notch, as slow as he can sometimes be, would make sure no harm befell his precious, perfect creation. The being thought with some level of muted bitterness. All his emotions were muted now, as he couldn't afford to have them get in his way.

The aura of the End was just as ghostly violet and mysterious as he had left it. But he couldn't let go for some reason- something felt _wrong._

He considered teleporting there for a brief moment, then dismissed the idea. Zariah would give him a scolding for doubting her abilities.

Then the light of the End flickered, and went out.

A tremor of surprise passed through the being. Nothing in this world was more powerful than the Dragon save him and his halfwit brother, not even the other Guardians. Then came a brief flash of cold fury, quickly subdued. Anger clouds judgement, and he couldn't afford that. When the light goes out, it meant the Realm was no longer under his _aegis-_ nor that of his brother.

Still, another powerful being had invaded _his_ territory, defiling it. It was not acceptable. He, like any other predator, would protect his domain fiercely.

Blindly charging in will gain him nothing, and teleporting would make his signature flare up like a firecracker. He had to be subtle about it, but if he wanted the invader to think he was still unaware, he must lay a false trail.

Just as he readied himself for a series of teleports that would no doubt alert the invader as well as his brother of his continued existence, a gust of wind caught the hood of his cloak, blowing it back from his face. He let if fall, as there was no point in wearing it anymore. Where the hood once covered, there was a face of improbable beauty. With pointed ears like that of an elf's, messy black hair curling slightly at the ends, and an unreadable aura of danger. The sun peeked just above the horizon, but no light reached him.

He opened his glowing silvery white eyes and smirked just before the teleport. He hadn't had a good fight in _ages._

Whoever intruded on his territory will _pay._

* * *

I glanced at the window positioned next to my bed. Bright, sunshiny day outside. Nice.

 _THUMP._

I rubbed my head and groaned in pain. Let me rephrase that: Nice day. Or would have been if I hadn't taken another knock to the cranium. Would have been even nicer if I hadn't had nightmares about severed heads rolling down the street.

Yeah, about what happened last night...

I may be a bit sensitive about, err..., dispatching human beings, even if they were criminals, but yeesh, what went down last night was just plain _harsh._ Almost as bad as the time Aurorion decided it was a good idea to flirt with the star goddess, Asrin. _That_ was a disaster resulting in much spilled blood and shed tears, and many pointy objects stuck all over Aurorion.

I admit, I've never killed another human being before. Yes, twenty something years being an awesome superhero, and no bad guys have being killed.

Horus, as per usual, seemed to appear silently out of nowhere, breaking my train of thought. He had exchanged the cloak for a long black coat made of soft leather for the sake of inconspicuousness. I ignored him, trying to make clear the fact that I was still pissed. It didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, he looked like he preferred the silence. That kind of put me off a bit.

Without so much as a glance at me, he walked away, smoothly flicking a pair of sunglasses open and placing them over his eyes, probably to hide the distinctive blue eyes that seem to mark him out from the rest of the crowd. I could never be bothered with glasses, as they tend to fall off at the most awkward moments.

I hurriedly got up to follow him. As much as I disliked him at the moment, I couldn't continue the journey without a guide. Silently cursing Notch for failing to install a GPS (Global Positioning Sorcery) system in the human being, I traipsed after him in a dispirited manner.

* * *

"We have to sleep outside tonight."

I flinched. He had been so silent I'd forgotten he was there. "W-what?"

"There are no human settlements in a fifty-mile radius, so we have to sleep outside tonight. Just to let you know in advance." Horus said quietly.

"In the open?" I gestured listlessly at the plains around us. Not a tree, bush, or tall grass in sight. Anyone resting here would become zombie chow about as soon as night falls. I am quite happy while _not_ being chewed to death by zombies, thank you.

He didn't look at me. "With a campfire, of course. And we can build a shelter out of the Mobs' reach. If you haven't forgotten, Crafter constructions don't exactly obey the laws of gravity." He lifted his head gave me an unreadable look.

I nodded, and kept on walking, trying to avoid his gaze. I felt a pressure on the back of my neck, almost like the stare was physical. Like someone pressed two fingers into the back of my neck. Cold fingers.

After a while, I felt very uncomfortable. "Stop staring at me." I snapped. I had an urge to rub my neck to get rid of the tingle left by the stare, but I stopped myself.

"You haven't ever killed a human before, have you?"

The question came out of the blue with no warning at all, startling me. Horus hadn't ever started a conversation of his own free will before. This must be one of the Seven Signs of Apocalypse, some of the others being Notch finding his sense of direction and Jeb failing to blow something up at least three times a day. Or me not falling out of bed every morning.

"No." I answered. "And I won't start, either." I met his gaze, silently daring him to call me a coward.

"How old were you when Notch recruited you?"

That question I'd answered so often that I simply spoke out of habit. "Seventeen years." I answered, almost in reflex.

He shook his head. "No, I don't mean normal age, I mean Crafter age. You can't have been seventeen years old back then in Crafter age because you're eighteen in Crafter age now, and you don't look like a newbie to me."

I faltered a bit. I wasn't sure whether the last part was meant as a compliment or just a casual statement. Besides, I wasn't used to people asking after my Crafter age. Crafters were so rare that when one _did_ pop up, it'd generally cause a ruckus and rouse Crafter-hating humans up to do Crafter-hating things to the poor person. For example, a guy got shot at, ran over with a pig, ended up spending a night in a dumpster, and had deadbushes thrown at him all morning just because he publicly announced himself as a Crafter. Which is generally why us Crafters keep our Crafter-ness to ourselves these days. Of course, not _all_ humans hate us. Well, I think so, anyway.

"About eight years old in Crafter age." I said, counting off the years on my fingers. The older the Crafter is, the slower they age, until they stop ageing on a random age that no one can predict.

"I wasn't doing dangerous stuff the whole time." I said, in case Horus was about to trash-talk Notch for being irresponsible. "I trained until I was thirteen, and _then_ started doing dangerous stuff." Okay, that sounded better in my head.

He nodded slowly. " Twenty-five years in Notch's service... and you still haven't killed a human. In a way, that is impressive."

Horus went silent again. I took that as a chance to ask the question I've been meaning to ask since last night.

"You don't feel bad for killing people?" And the question is out. Bam.

He met my questioning gaze evenly. "No. Not if _they_ attack _me."_

"They could have had families. People who care about them." I said, heat rising to my face. "You don't feel guilty _at all?"_

"Don't get angry, Steve. It won't help." Horus said calmly. "If you're so hung up on hurting the loved ones of the people I killed, then why do you still kill Mobs?"

I paused. "What?"

"Every Enderman, Creeper, Ghast and Shulker also has a family. Are you saying they don't matter?" His eyes flicked over to me, still expressionless. This guy has missed his true calling. His poker face could beat the last gold nugget out of the best card sharks.

"I _do_ feel bad about killing Endermen. If you know the Mobs have loved ones, people they're important to, then why do _you_ kill them?"

He shrugged. "Simple. Self defence. I don't really care about who or what dies as long as I live to see another sunrise." he said casually.

I glared at him. "Are you good at anything that doesn't involve murdering?"

"Yes. I'm told I am very good at lying, stealing, Griefing, setting dangerous traps..." he paused, thinking. "And I'm a killer with a fiddle, if I say so myself."

 _Is it just me, or do I need to alert a mental asylum ASAP?_

"Now you're taking it as a bloody _joke_." I muttered angrily.

He smiled bitterly. "Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill a million, you are a conquerer. Kill them all, and you are a God." He quoted. "You want another one? I used to tell this one to my brother a lot. 'Winners write the history. Losers get to deal with the scraps.' That's if they're not dead already"

I didn't bother to honour that statement with a response.

* * *

By nightfall, I was adding a few finishing touches to a little hut on a raised platform. Horus was down on the ground, scratching little symbols into the dirt with a stick. Whenever he completed one, it would flare up in a certain colour for a brief moment and dim down again. He also drew a few marks on the pole supporting our platform.

As much as I wanted to give him the cold shoulder treatment for the rest of the journey, I wanted very badly to know more about magic. I _was_ born with the potential to be a magician, after all, but never quite found the time to train, which was why I can't do magic any more than a stack of hay could.

I kept silent as long as I could, but when Horus finished whatever he was doing and came back up, I couldn't help it anymore. Damn humankind's inquisitive nature!

"How does, uh... magic work?" I asked tentatively. I kind of expected him to ignore me (again).

Horus turned to me and took his sunglasses off. I pretended to be putting a plank of wood in place, only paying him a little attention.

"Depends on what kind of magic. There's what we call Primary magic, or, which is what we're born with- like your Ender Affinity. Primary magic is divided into two sub-groups- Elemental, and Mob Affinity. Then there's Sorcery, which is blasting stuff with beams of light, or teleporting, or throwing something- or someone- unpleasant out of the window with a little light show -every magician can learn sorcery, no matter what type of magic you use. Even some people who are not born with Primary magic can use sorcery. Basically, sorcery is the most commonly used form of magic and non-magical humans got it into their heads that all magic was like sorcery."

I looked over to him. His eyes gleamed in the firelight with the look of someone talking about something they like/enjoy doing.

"There's Necromancy. Nasty stuff with shadow energy and tampering with something's life. Most powerful necromancer spells need a sacrifice to work, because necromancy works with life forces." Horus continued. "Paladins are the opposite of Necromancers. They can detect lies and stuff. Paladins are all about light energy and purifying things. They also work with life forces, but in a more positive way." He summoned up a bit of light in his hands and made a spinning ying-yang absentmindedly.

He paused, and I waited for him to continue. He saw the eager look on my face and looked slightly amused.

"Psychic is where the sorcerer/magician/witch/wizard- whatever you've taken to calling us these days- moves something with the sheer strength of their minds. Also including mind reading, telepathy, seeing things other people don't see- that sort of thing. Mind you, actually moving something with your mind is hard. Only the most accomplished Psychics can do it. The Ancient Language is spoken- or written magic. Spells, incantations, etcetera." He moved his fingers, causing the light in his palm to twist into strange letters that I didn't recognize.

"Rune magic, sometimes called glam, is what I did with the little symbols down there." He pointed to the ground, where the marks he'd drawn earlier were now blazing up in different-coloured lights. "You can draw them, throw them from your hand, throw them with your mind, or just gather a whole bunch of runes in a circle as a combination spell. Runes are very flexible. Normally, people who are magicians can't be runecasters, but there are very rare cases where a person can be both." He put his hands together and brought them apart again, revealing a long string of runes stretched between.

Horus stopped again, and looked over at me. "Thing is, you can't fully explain how magic works. It just _is_ , for unexplainable reasons." The light he'd been playing with faded away and he dusted his palms.

"Wait" I said, suddenly remembering something. "The guy with the axe called you Peregrine. Why?"

The sorcerer/magicky dude/whatchamacallit tossed an itemized bed down, expanding to full size when it hit the floor (I mean the bed, not the person. Unless the said sorcerer is actually a shrunken giant in disguise, which is not altogether impossible). He answered my question without turning around.

"That was what I called myself the first time I went to Arcopolis."

"So..." I fidgeted. "Horus is not your real name?"

He turned around and looked at me like I should be in a jar. "Just because I changed my name doesn't make it any less real."

"What was your _original_ name?" I asked out of curiosity.

The corner of his lip twitched upwards slightly, just for a moment.

"I am Nameless, for my names are many." He quoted. I distinctly remembered that from somewhere.

"Hey wait... isn't that from the Book of Days?" I asked. The Book of Days was a religious scripture, dedicated to Notch and the other Gods. According to Notch, the Book of Days was a pile of zombie crap in the shape of a book and the people who wrote it were drunk on elf wine, which could be dangerous to a human's mental health. I get the feeling whoever wrote the thing wasn't very accurate.

"If it was named Book of Delusional Idiocy, it might have been more fitting." Horus said dryly.

Then, without another word, he promptly built a literal wall between me and him.

You'd almost think he was trying to avoid somebody.

* * *

I woke up to discover it was still dark. The moon hung high in the sky, and the Mobs were being very chatty. Most likely planning to turn the two tasty humans on the treehouse into two tasty human kebabs. I breathed out a sigh of irritation- I'd have to get back to sleep all over again!- and closed my eyes.

A twanging sound had me out of the bed in a second. It sounded suspiciously like a skeleton was attempting a stealthy (not really) assassination. I pulled out my slightly glowing sword and peered cautiously over the edge of the platform.

My jaw fell. The scene on the ground was absolutely chaotic. There were flaming zombies running everywhere with arrows stuck in them. The twanging sound continued. Every time I heard the bowstring, a Mob would go up in flames. Another fiery arrow arced down, ending the not-life of a skeleton, and I traced the arrow back to its source.

It was coming from the other side of the platform.

So, apparently Horus decided do target practice with Mobs. That wasn't unusual, but being the nosy person that I am, I nerd-poled over the wall to have a look.

Horus sat at the edge of the platform, occasionally taking aim at an unfortunate Mob. Whenever he fired, a Mob went down. All the arrows found their marks. The bow was gleaming with multiple enchantments, one of which must have been Flame.

"You can come down if you want, Steve." he said suddenly. Surprised he'd known I was there, I jumped down to join him, sitting down at his side.

"Why aren't you resting?" I asked.

He pulled the bowstring back, a cracking noise sounded and a shaft of blue light appeared on the bow, solidifying into the shape of an arrow. He loosed the arrow and a zombie flamed up before disintegrating. He put his bow down and I waited patiently for him to speak.

"Nightmares." he answered. He looked tired, his brilliant blue eyes dull. "I didn't want to get back to sleep."

"What did you dream about?" I asked, curious.

A dark look flashed across his face and the air seemed to turn cold. "None of your business." he replied stiffly.

I dropped the subject immediately. For a moment, we were quiet as more zombies met their second deaths at the ends of flaming arrows. I broke the silence after a while. "Can you..." I hesitated. Maybe he'd think I wasn't worth it. Horus tilted his head to the side, silently prompting me to finish the sentence. "Can you... teach me magic?" I hadn't bothered with sorcery because I deemed it unnecessary and I couldn't be bothered to take the lessons Jeb offered (partly because I didn't trust him to _not_ blow me up). But seeing Horus using it as if it was no more than a dangerous plaything and the joy I'd glimpsed behind his normally emotionless mask had made me reconsider. Also, sorcery kinda seemed cool. I'd never be bothered by the Silverfish hiding in my house again!

"I _could."_ he shrugged. "But _will_ I?" His eyes glinted, the moonlight reflecting there washing over the dark cobalt blue and turning his irises into a pale silver.

I sighed in exasperation. "Fine. _Will_ you teach me magic?" I looked at Horus and gave him my best beseeching look.

The shadow of a smile played with the corner of his lips. "I will." I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought he'd refuse for sure.

Just then, a massive _BOOM_ came from somewhere over a hill. I leapt to my feet and saw a plume of smoke, followed by an explosion of flames.

"Which idiot decided to plant a nuke there?" I exclaimed as another mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke rose to the sky.

Horus looked bored, like he always does. "Just a fire magician dealing with Mobs. No need to worry- all monsters within a half-mile radius is likely to be more overcooked than the soup my brother made now."

I turned to him with one eyebrow raised. "You never told me you had a brother."

His gaze slid to me lazily. "You never asked."

"Is he a magician like you? What's he like?"

Horus paused for a bit. "No. He isn't a magician like me because he prefers weaponry magic over pure sorcery. As for your second question, I can't really answer that now."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

He gave me a smile. It wasn't a happy one. "He's dead. To me, at the very least, even if he had somehow escaped from the Void again." He picked up his bow and shot a random skeleton. There was a brooding look on his face, and his eyes were narrowed to slits like he was thinking about something unpleasant.

"The Void?" I asked. "I thought people go the the Aether or the Nether after they die. How does he get out of the Void if he's dead, anyhow?"

Horus sighed. "My brother wasn't... isn't what you'd call a normal person. I wish he was. Then the bastard can die and stay dead, along with his Void-damned followers." He opened his eyes, staring blankly at nothing as another pillar of flame roared up to the sky.

Normal person... according to the Book of Days, when gods die, they are imprisoned in the Void. But coming back was impossible, as the death of the first Fire God during the Dawn Wars had proven. Then again, I'd never heard anyone in the Aether mention the Fire God. And Notch himself had said the Book of Days was a heap of trash.

"Do you know why Notch recruited you?"

"I... there was a burning building. Me and another kid was trapped inside. He was unconscious. I made a hole in the wall by throwing a chair at it, and I tossed him out first. I ended up dying, because the building collapsed afterwards. Then Notch respawned me. So... yeah." I looked up at the dark sky, wondering what sort of shit the others up at the Aether is thinking me to be right now.

Horus scrutinised me with calculating eyes. His eyes lingered on my face. "I don't think that was why Notch wanted you. Thousands of people have died more heroic deaths and been ignored."

I flushed slightly. "It's good to see how worthy you think I am. Why do _you_ think he took me in, then?"

"Because you remind him of his brother." he said softly, drawing his knees up to his chest. I realised how young he looked.

"What?" I asked, sure my ears had malfunctioned. I looked nothing like Notch. For starters, I am not bald.

"His brother. What you people call the Nether Prince. I've seen pictures of him on the walls of forgotten temples. You look so much like him, it's almost creepy." He paused. "Then again, you don't have a god's good looks."

"Wait, you mean... The Fallen One?" I asked, being careful to avoid speaking _his_ name out loud.

Horus flashed me a look of dark amusement. "It's quite safe to say Herobrine's name. If I know anything at all, he's occupied at the moment. Besides, if he killed every single being that spoke his name out loud, the world's population would be a quarter of what it is now. He's not going to bother. Also, speaking a God's name out loud is the same as thinking of it in your thoughts. They can hear it just as well." He paused. "On that note, don't say Notch's name after this. Try not to think about it either. As scatterbrained as he normally is, he might pay attention for once. Though it would be hard to hear you out of the thousands of beings praying to him at all times."

I nodded with a gulp, wondering if Notch had already heard me. I didn't want to spend the rest of my short life in a prison cell.

* * *

Morning came upon me with a vengeance, ripping me from the sweet clutches of sleep violently. I groaned against the harsh light.

Horus kicked me in the side none too gently. I got up reluctantly, and helped him deconstruct the shelter. Within moments, we were on our way along our seemingly endless journey. It was a pretty cloudy day, and soon started to rain. Horus pulled his cloak on again and murmured something in another language. A dry circle appeared around us. I was very happy for it, because I never packed an umbrella for quests (the one time I did, it got smashed into a scrap pile because I accidentally pulled it out instead of my sword in a fight with some rogue dwarves. I can honestly still hear them laughing).

After what felt like an eternity, a line of grey loomed up on the horizon. The circle of dry ground started getting smaller and smaller, unnoticeably at first, as we got closer and closer to the massive wall. Soon I was pressing up to Horus' shoulder to keep out of the rain.

"Why are you making the rain shield smaller?" I asked, accidentally bumping into him again. His eyes were fixed on the massive wall that I couldn't see the ends of.

"That's the Boundary Wall." he answered, nodding to the wall . "It separates the four Regions of the Overworld. It's the same wall between every Region. Apparently the Gods built it to keep four warring factions from tearing at each other's throats. That's not exactly true, because it was Jeb who built it without help from the other Gods."

The circle tightened again, and I ended up walking behind him to keep out of the rain. He continued: "The closer you get to the Wall, the harder it is to cast spells. It was built from bedrock, which absorbs all forms of magic except for the Godly kind. Jeb simply magnified the magic-soaking abilities so no one can get over the Wall without been authorised. In addition, the Minecraft Laws which enable Crafting doesn't work at close range either. Missiles get vaporised when they get too close, so no one can Ender Pearl over."

I stepped even closer to him as the circle shrank. At this rate, I was going to be pressed up against him like a fish stuck on a shark before long. I did not relish the thought. "How are we going to get over, then? Put ourselves in a TNT cannon and hope we make it there?" I said sarcastically. Horus rolled his eyes at my remark.

"What are you, deaf? I just said missiles get vaporised before they go over. As full of air your head is, you are sadly not _physically_ empty, so you _do_ count as a missile." he snapped. He sounded annoyed, which may or may not have been caused by the lack of sleep last night. He had faint black rings under his eyes, and he looked tired.

"We're going to make a Nether Portal, go into it, walk for a bit, and make another Nether Portal to come out on the other side." he said casually. "While Jeb was very careful about not letting people sneak through, even _he_ can't bend reality to make it impossible to make Nether Portals. The Nether is not his domain, and he wouldn't want to risk his life messing around with someone else's territory. If he so much as sets a single _toe_ in the Nether he's doomed."

I gaped at him. Horus had just casually outlined a plan to do something no human, Crafter, elf, dwarf, or Testificate has managed to do in the history of the world. No one has ever set foot in the Nether for more than an hour and come out alive and whole. "What about us? If _we_ so much as set a toe in the Nether, _we'd_ be doomed as well." I'd been in the Nether myself once to get Nether Wart for an alchemist (Nether Wart doesn't survive well in the Overworld climate), and had only been in for a few minutes and still barely escaped with my life. I swear the Ghasts had something against my continued existence.

"Don't worry about it." he said calmly. "We'll be fine as long as we don't overstay the time limit."

I frowned a bit. "What time limit?" I'd never heard of a time limit before.

He turned to me and arched an eyebrow. "You've never heard of the Agreement? Where the Gods made a pact with Herobrine to let a small amount of mortals into the Nether for one hour at a time without actively trying to kill them- as long as the Gods themselves stay out of the Nether and provided the mortals survive the Mobs and the lava?"

I shook my head. "Never heard of it." I said.

Horus sighed. "So the the mortals forgot... that doesn't mean the pact isn't in act anymore, though. We can still cross the Wall- provided we don't overstay the time limit."

"So..." I began. "When are we going to casually walk into Hell?"

He scowled at the steadily closing rain and flicked a finger at it. "As soon as we find a cave to get obsidian out of." he paused. "Problem is, we still don't know where the End Portal is."

A voice piped up in my mind. _"I can help you with that."_

* * *

The Ender Dragon uncurled, yawning. She was resting on top of her favourite obsidian pillar- the tallest one, which the Endermen couldn't see the top of, unless they disobeyed her and teleported in for a closer look, risking death by her claws.

She stiffened a bit as she felt a ripple in the weft of the End, then relaxed a second later. It was probably just White-Eyes coming back to make sure the End hadn't managed to tip itself upside-down for some reason (Zariah had accidentally done that with her dragon magic once before she learnt to control it), or Short-Steve-Two-Legs coming back to visit her. He always smelt of the Overworld- grass, sunshine (ew), and the last thing he ate (double ew. The Dragon hates mushroom stew, but Short-Steve-Two-Legs seem to be very fond of it).

But the scent was different. It was like White-Eyes, this thing that had entered didn't have a scent at all, but Zariah knew it isn't White-Eyes because the power signature of this individual was different. White-Eyes' signature was a shifting silver-white shot through with ice-blue streaks, strong and constant with an aura of danger and thinly veiled viciousness, and felt cold enough to burn, but it was not so harshly bright as to hurt to look at (brightness does not signify strength, so White-Eyes made sure to keep his aura dim as to not attract unwanted attention) . This individual's aura was a blindingly bright yellow, flaring up like an explosion.

Zariah growled, wickedly sharp spines rising. It couldn't possibly be Baldy-Black-Beard-Gold-Eyes, White-Eyes' brother. The last time he'd been here, Zariah and White-Eyes had given him a beating so vicious he'd kept well away for several centuries. Besides, Baldy-Black-Beard's signature was royal gold, not sunshine yellow.

The Dragon smoothly took to the air soundlessly, invisible against the End's twilight skies. Dragon magic and Ender fire swirled in her belly, ready to use. If this intruder was a threat, she would eliminate it effortlessly, as she had already eliminated countless threats.

Zariah had never failed before.

* * *

 **Ow. Sprained my hand. Typing was double slow today, but the show's on the road.**

 **Also, I get this feeling that the Minecraft fan community is dying (Thank you for voicing my thoughts, Void Entity). Six months ago, whenever I got on, there were at least four stories updated every day. Now I'm lucky if there's _one_.**

 **I hope the Minecraft fandom doesn't kick the bucket (so young, so much to live for!) 'cos it's still my favourite game. Partly because there's no storyline to it, so you can basically write your stories however the heck you want and still get away with it. Also because I became obsessed with dillongoo's Gods Don't Bleed (don't judge).**

 **It is sad enough for me that my favourite book series Runemarks (by Joanne Harris) is so unpopular that it doesn't even _have_ a fanfiction section, and if the Minecraft community dies I'd have nothing to write for. My only fictions will be of Pokémon, and everybody already does that anyway (Bugger). I need to stop talking about my own life problems.**

 **If there are any authors reading this, please continue your stories and prevent the tragic martyrdom of the Minecraft Fanfiction Archive.**

 **Thank you for listening to (reading?) this scrappy excuse of a speech.**

 **Nano**

* * *

 _Please rate and review!_

 _^My friend made me ask for reviews. You guys know I don't usually waste words on this. Though reviews_ are _kinda nice..._


	11. Miners and Monsters

Chapter Eleven: Miners and Monsters

* * *

 _"You people want to get into the End. Am I right or am I right?"_ asked the Enderman who had pulled us into a cave for shelter.

"First answer." I said, setting my chin on my palms. "And second answer. Yeah, we do want to get to the End, if that's not too much trouble. You know a handy taxi-carriage driver?"

He laughed in a strange, Enderman-ish way. _"Sorry. Nothing of that sort on hand, I'm afraid. Just an old map of where the End Portal is."_

I lifted an eyebrow. Well, that's what I thought I did, anyway. For all I know I could have being scowling strangely. "If you know where the End Portal is, then why can't you just teleport us there? You get to keep your antique map as well. It's a win-win." I tried not to sound too hopeful.

He examined his clawed hands and then met my eyes with a violet gaze of his own. _"Rules are rules."_ he shrugged. _"I'm not actually allowed to bring humans to the End. Bad for the scenery, you see. They like to build obstructions everywhere they go. For such short creatures you people do a lot of damage."_ he sighed eyes flicked over to Horus, who was watching the exchange silently, leaning against a wall. _"I wouldn't be offering this deal in the first place if you weren't from the End."_

"So what do you want for the antique map?"

He smiled, revealing way too many teeth. _"Just a dragon scale."_

"Just a dragon scale." I tried not to flinch as Horus spoke. He often spends long periods of time not making a sound, so whenever he does speak I'm always caught off guard. Also because he's a scary person in general.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

 _"That is none of your concern,_ human. _"_ the Enderman said with a tinge of scorn in his tone. Horus' eyes narrowed dangerously and I edged my way towards the entrance of the cave.

"It certainly would be my concern if you want to make a weapon of mass destruction." He drawled in a somewhat bored manner, as if weapons of mass destruction didn't bother him in the least.

 _"It's not for an arcane bomb."_ the Enderman sighed. _"I plan to make an enchanted scale. Happy?"_

Horus inclined his head by the tiniest bit and went back to ignoring us.

I edged my way back into the cave. "Uh... Enchanted scale?"

 _"It's where you enchant the scale with a Potion Effect."_ the Enderman explained. _"The holder would experience the effects of the potion, but the effects would last forever unless the holder is parted from it. Only works on dragon scales, and since there is only one dragon in existence, enchanted scales are very rare."_

"Yeah, right. Speaking about rare scales, if the only dragon in existence is in the End and we're still trying to get there, what made you think we had one?"

He shrugged. _"How you get one is not my concern. The offer stands. If you can't get one then don't bother me."_

Disappointment weighed me down like a stone in my gut. "Sorry for wasting your time." I made to walk out of the cave.

"I accept your deal." came a quiet voice from behind me. I whipped around in surprise and stared at Horus like he'd grown a pair of antlers. I opened my mouth to say something but shut it again at the sight of them shaking hands.

He arched an eyebrow at the incredulous look on my face. "The End is not the only place you can get a dragon's scale from, Steve." he said with a sly gleam in his eye.

* * *

"Arcane bomb?"

We were down in a cave, the closest one to the Boundary Wall we could find where Crafting still worked. Horus had made a weird blue fire the size of a fist that somehow burned without fuel. I popped down a Crafting Table and started to make myself a diamond helmet with the few diamonds I had on hand.

"Dragon scales contain a lot of magic." he said, fiddling with a spell that seemed to writhe and struggle in his hands. "Since the Ender Dragon is actually classified as a goddess, one of her scales is like..." he paused, thinking. The little ball of blue light took that opportunity to leap out of his hands, but was caught quickly and subdued. "Like a strand of hair from _his_ beard, though I doubt the mortals would prize beard hair as much as dragon scales."

"And that has to do with weapons of mass destruction?" I put the newly-crafted helmet on my head and wriggled it around a bit to make it fit comfortably.

He gave me a flat stare, like he thought I belonged in preschool. "You know that God-Essence sword you have? Some god or goddess actually used so much of their power that the energy took a solid form to make that, probably putting them in some godly hospital for days hooked up to some sort of energy drip wondering _Why the heck did I do this to myself so some idiot mortal can kill worthless monsters that don't bother me anyway?_ "

"You already made you point clear that you think I'm worthless." I muttered. He didn't appear to hear me. I decided to make myself an iron chestplate as well, just in case I didn't have the time to find any more diamonds.

"Every god is made up of pure energy of some sort. So imagine the weak, diluted power in your sword multiplied ten times but in the shape of a scale, a beard hair, or toe-nail clippings."

"Charming. Nice to know I could have been slaying monsters with body hair and come out of it with better results."

He gave me the cold look again. I shut myself up before I could get my throat ripped out. "Long story short, if you manage to turn the object back into pure energy then you'd have enough power to blow a mile-wide hole straight to the bedrock."

I nodded seriously. Remind me not to mess around with Jeb's hair brush in the future. Knowing myself, I'd accidentally start Armageddon.

"So, about the dragon scale. What are we doing down here? Are you planning to forge one or something?" I asked. Horus brought his hands together and extinguished the spell he'd been playing with. Kinda reminded me of an insect getting slapped.

"We're going along with our original plan and getting the materials for a Nether Portal. The Enderman will meet us at the other side." he said, and fell silent.

"Wha-" I started to say. He flashed me a freezing glare that almost made me piss my pants and put a finger to his lips. I closed my mouth with a snap and wondered what could possibly be wrong _this_ time (I dunno. I seem to be a magnet for trouble for some reason. There was probably a Killer Bunny coming our way or something).

After a while of staring at random objects in confusion, I heard it too. A deep humming noise coming from the stone walls of the cave, softly at first, but getting louder and louder.

That doesn't seem like a Killer Bunny to me.

A few feet away, a lump formed on a wall. I leapt back in a startled fashion like I'd just seen a creeper, and watched with some level of incredulity as the lump grew larger and larger. A soft rasp of steel and suddenly Horus was brushing past me, scythe in hand, blue cloak swishing.

Then came the explosions.

A plume of dust spurted from the stone, and the next thing I knew, I was flying backwards and shards of rock were whistling through the air like missiles. There was several flashes of light and then a loud _CRACK._ Several _THUMPS_ followed and a chunk of stone landed next to me. I wasn't really sure what happened next. I was too busy choking on dust to comprehend what was going on, anyway.

A few moments later, there was a sound like someone snapping their fingers and the dust suddenly cleared. I found myself on my hands and knees and quickly got to my feet. "What was that?" I asked.

Fragments of what looked like a roughly human-shaped stone golem lay scattered on the ground, smoking from whatever spell it got hit by. Horus put his scythe back in his Inventory and looked up from the figure on the ground, not a hair out of place. "I found the Bogeyman, Steve." he drawled, brushing the dust off his cloak. I really couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. You never could with the permanently bored expression on his face.

"I don't know what this is." he muttered. "And that is bothering me."

"Well, you can't know everything. At least we know why there aren't any mobs around." I said, trying to lighten up the mood. He shook his head, a disquieted look lingering on his face.

Then the expression on his face changed into one of alarm. "Steve. Move." he said. I took a step back and tried to draw my sword, but ended up with my pickaxe instead.

"What-"

I didn't get the time to finish my sentence.

The ground shook violently, as if Terra had finally had enough of pesky mortals digging up her territory. I fell on my backside in an undignified manner, pickaxe flying out of my hands.

A hole opened up from under me, and chose that moment to reveal a gaping cavern right underneath where we were. It's almost like the universe was saying _Surprise, suckers!_

Talk about bad timing. I knew the world hated me anyway.

With that cheerful thought in mind, I fell to my doom for the billionth time. Yay.

\- and the air was rushing past me, but no longer in a falling-to-death-into-massive-hole kind of way. It was almost like how I imagined...

Flying?

My feet settled on a surface lightly, and I stumbled before catching myself. I blinked a bit to make sure I wasn't dead and waiting for Respawn to kick in (again).

A flat, wooden bridge in the middle of the chasm. I was standing on a part of an abandoned mineshaft. I could even see the hole we'd fallen from, and I didn't think I'd survive a fall from that height.

 _Wait... we?_

 _Where's Horus?_

There was a few seconds of me panicking like a little kid who got caught stealing from the cookie jar before a voice hissed:"Right here, idiot."

I spun around suddenly, cracking my spine in the process. The magician was on his knees on the wooden planks, looking quite out of breath. He caught me staring and pushed himself to his feet. "Levitation is tiring. Especially when you're trying to catch an object that's falling fast. Of course-" he shot me an unimpressed look. "-It's harder with heavier objects."

I scowled. "Did you save me just so you could call me fat? Besides, what happened back there?" I'd lost my pickaxe, and wasn't pleased about it.

An unreadable expression flashed across his face, gone too quickly for me to be sure it was there at all. "I don't know." he said quietly. I got the vague impression he wasn't telling me something, but decided not to voice it.

"It's not over yet." he said suddenly, and drew his weapon. I did the same, silently thanking my nonexistent luck I hadn't lost my sword instead.

There was nothing for a while, and I started to drop my guard. Then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and noticed Horus wasn't in the same position anymore. A millisecond later there was a screech and a spray of yellow liquid, and a creature of sorts thudded down on the bridge, hissing and squirming, before the light faded out of its eyes and it lay still. I went over to take a look at it and almost puked.

The smell of moldy fruit clung to it. It was smallish, the size of a human child. It was covered from head to toe with what looked like browned leaves, and it had avian feet ending in very sharp talons. Its arms ended in sharp points instead of hands. The head looked like something you'd get if you mixed a creeper head with a jack-o'lantern. I stumbled away, nose being brutally murdered by the stench. "Yeesh." I wrinkled my nose. "Who's compost pile did _this_ get born in?"

Horus had frozen to the spot, staring. I could tell he recognised it. I prodded him in the arm gingerly, half expecting to have my head sliced off. He blinked, snapping out of his trance, the usual bored expression settling back on his face.

"There's more of them." he said. "They're invisible until you kill them, so you only know where they are from the smell. Avoid getting so much as a scratch. They have poison glands under their skin." he didn't tell me what exactly they were, and I didn't feel the need to know.

Then he moved again, scythe blade making a soft sound as it did its job. At the same time, I smelt the scent of compost again and ducked out of reflex, spinning and lashing out blindly with my sword. I hit something and swung again, hearing the thing screech as two halves of the creature landed on either side of me, still wriggling. I turned away in disgust and simply started randomly slicing at things whenever I smelt or felt anything fishy. I'm sure the weird creatures were all being scared off by my dazzling show of skill.

I noticed Horus wasn't using magic. Yes, he did occasionally do an impressive acrobatic manoeuvre now and then, but as far as aerial backflips and other fancy moves go, they didn't require sorcery. Maybe he'd run out of energy.

I ducked again, feeling something swish over my head. I can almost feel the creatures now, disturbances in the air around me. Maybe I was developing a second sight (apparently all magicians have second sight)?

Or maybe it was just because the weird things stank like rotten fruit and farts.

I had one thing in my head: _KILL ZE STUPID LEAF CREATURES!_ So when it was over, it took me a while to realise it. I was standing in a pile of compost that wasn't disintegrating like creatures normally would after I killed them.

Horus was slightly bent over. At the first glance, it looked like he was holding one of the creatures by the throat. But I noticed he was standing too still.

"Are you alright?" I called. He raised his head slightly and I got a full view of the blood trickling out of the corner of his lip. Then the red-slicked point sticking out of his back.

He pulled the leaf-creature off and gasped as the spear/arm slid out of his chest. "Does it... look like... I'm alright?" he rasped as I rushed over.

"Don't die now, Notchdammit." I said, ignoring the warning hiss.

"Heh... Don't look... so hopeful... you twit." I tried to support him so we could go somewhere safer, but his legs gave out and he collapsed in a bloody heap, devoid of any of his usual grace.

Then the universe decided to throw me in for another loop.

The ground trembled, gently at first, then getting more and more violent, throwing me backwards. I screamed in frustration as the bridge collapsed and tried to get over to Horus.

The bridge promptly split between us, exactly in the middle.

His eyes met mine just before the wooden floor crumbled, and then-

Gone.

* * *

 **This story will be going on a Hiatus for three weeks while I'm stuck on camp, which is why I got this chapter in early (If I say so myself). Sorry about that (Not that anyone really reads this anyway).**

 **Here's a little short story, inspired by something on DeviantArt. Well, not so much as inspired as driven me into a fit of rage and made me determined to prove them wrong (I can't really prove anything because this is all in my imagination).**

* * *

Half God

* * *

Forty years after the creation of the world etc, etc...

And the Gods are squabbling again.

Jeb shouldn't be surprised, really (And he wasn't). Whenever Notch is away romping around the Overworld discovering new things, making up new things, and having fun, the Gods always squabble. Herobrine can't be bothered to keep them in check, and besides, if the Gods didn't have a fight every now and then, where would he go to keep himself amused?

- _I'm ranked higher than you! You have to listen to me!_

 _-No I don't, you're just a worthless idiot with a head full of shit and Notch was fooled by your flattery so he gave you a higher rank!_

Jeb exhales deeply, tuning out the arguments as he sips from his coffee. Yes, Gods are allowed to bring drinks to meetings, so most of them does. It is almost habitual for a God to bring a drink to a meeting now.

-"Just a Half-God!" Aurorion says loudly, attracting the attentions of lots of bored gods who have nothing to do but listen to conversations.

Herobrine raises an eyebrow (This guy is graceful even when he's only raising an eyebrow, Notchdammit!) and watches calmly as Aurorion storms up to his seat at the head of the table next to Notch's empty one.

Oh yeah. Forgot to mention: Aurorion always brings elf wine to meetings, thus always ending up a drunken idiot when he come out (He was always an idiot. The alcohol just makes him drunk as well).

"You're just _*hic*_ a demigod! You shouldn't _*hic*_ even _be_ in the Aether, much less sit at the head of the table!" Aurorion exclaims, pointing at the white-eyed god drunkenly.

Herobrine sets his tea cup in its saucer carefully, and meets Aurorion's bluster with a cool gaze. _"And where did you get that information from, pray tell?"_

"I-" Aurorion stutters. "The mortals all say it."

 _"And since when did we ever listen to mortals?"_ Herobrine drawls.

"Sh-Shut up!" Aurorion snaps. "The reason wear the form of a teenage mortal and the reason you don't have a rank is because you are weak, and don't like to admit it! I propose a duel: If I win, you crawl out of the Aether with your pathetic tail between your legs and I get your position." He smirks confidently. He knows Herobrine couldn't afford to back down now without looking like a coward.

The white-eyed god rests his chin on his palms, looking not at all perturbed by the audience. _"And if I win? What's in it for me?"_ Aurorion stutters and stumbles over his words. _"You have nothing to offer, I see. Well, I accept you challenge."_

He promptly stands up and summons his scythe/pickaxe. The gods back away with some level of wariness. He then leans it on a wall and with a flick of his fingers, clears all the chairs and tables away.

Aurorion grins and summons his spear. Now that the god is weaponless, he doesn't stand a chance!

* * *

 _A minute later..._

* * *

Herobrine walks away from the throne room with his hands in his pockets and not a hair out of place.

"That was jolly well violence in its truest form." Hydros says, aquamarine eyes the size of oranges.

 _Yes, and that was the understatement of the millennia._ Jeb thinks dryly.

Aurorion is lying in a smoking crater fifty feet deep with all his bones broken and bleeding everywhere with a broken spear and a even more broken pride. The gods stand around and take pictures of him for blackmail material.

Jeb just sighs. There is a reason Herobrine called the Destroyer, after all.

Though the fact he is number zero in the rankings of the gods may be taken the wrong way.

Notch teleports in with a starburst of gold and looks around in a really confused way. The gods immediately quit their squabbling and make themselves look as respectable as possible.

"Did I miss something? Why is there a hole in the ground?" He peers into the said hole. "Why did someone drop a zombie in- Oh, sorry. Hi, Rory."

Aurorion whimpers something intelligible, probably protesting to the belittling nickname.

Notch waves his hand, lifting the Ice God out of the crater and restoring the room to proper order.

"Now, can someone tell me where my brother's run off to?"


	12. Into the Depths

Alex ducked as an arrow whistled over her head, then replied with one of her own. The Enderman simply teleported away. _Where did that bloody bastard even get a damn bow, anyway?_ Alex growled under her breath, drawing her bow and firing again. In the blink of an eye, two zombies were reduced to flaming lumps of flesh. Alex wrinkled her nose. Even though her current campsite was situated at the top of a very tall tree, she could still smell the unpleasant odour. The zombies' revenge, she supposed.

She picked out her next targets with a quick scan and pulled the bowstring back to her cheek. She let loose a barrage of arrows, her hands moving so fast they were a blur. _One_. She counted in her head as a creeper went up in flames. _Two. Three. Four, five six seven eight-_

She heard a gasp of awe from behind her and quickly put her bow away. _Dammit, the idiot is awake again_. She cursed to herself and imagined the source of annoyance being torn apart by hungry zombies, which helped a bit.

"Lady Alex! Such skill I have never seen in my life!" The idiot exclaimed loudly, attracting more mobs to their tree house. Alex wished nothing more in that moment than for a human TNT cannon to fire the fool to the Nether with. She should have never agreed to take the halfwit on as an apprentice. She'd seen him at a village she saved from a creeper invasion, and he had begged her to take him with her. She agreed because he had the gift of magic, but she never foresaw his lack of a brain.

"You are a goddess of, uh, killing things!" The fool went on. "You must take a name for yourself, a hero's name! You know, to look cool." Alex wondered if the stupid boy had being reading too many superhero stories. He did seem immature enough to still be obsessed with those things.

Alex's brain cells were about to flee out of her right ear to escape this atrocious stupidity.

"You can be the Flaming Arrow!" The fool said happily after a long pause of trying to think up a decent superhero name. "And I can be-"

"-The Moronic Idiot." Alex interrupted. "Fits you perfectly."

The dimwit just nodded happily. "My lady, you are the perfect heroine. You have beauty as well as bravery. Your eyes are as green as, uh, really, really green cabbage..." He trailed off, thinking up more stupid things to say. Alex rolled her eyes. The boy had a brain like a peanut.

"You can fight like, er, a really fierce rooster." _A farm boy._ Alex scowled. _And an illiterate one at that._

"And your hair is the colour of, um..." The moron's eyes brightened as he found a word he thought was good.

"The colour of carrots!"

 _WHANG._

"And your aim with a frying pan is legendary." The boy added before promptly collapsing in a dead faint. That made Alex very, very happy.

 _What a bloody nincompoop._

Alex peered over the edge of the treehouse again and almost fell backwards. The zombies had found a way to sort-of climb, and were now piled higgledy-piggledy up the side of the tree trunk, looking for all the world like a giant sewerage pipe had leaked all over the tree.

Alex cursed the gods soundly, using a lot of none child-friendly words. _Time to bring out a blowtorch._ Alex definitely was not lacking in a blowtorch.

She thrust her hand out, palm facing outwards, and shouted a war cry. An explosion of orange flames shot from her hand and blasted the unsuspecting zombies into ashes, and sending a very bright signal flare into the sky in the process.

 _Oh, joy. That probably got the attention of every living being in a twenty-mile radius. More mobs to disturb my rest. Hooray._

Horus and Steve were just over the hill, ignorant of the fact she decided to follow them. Well, until now, that is. After the really, really bright fire show, Horus was bound to smell a rat. A killer rat with bright orange hair and a slow-witted companion.

Alex hoped Steve hadn't managed to get mortally injured. She didn't bother to hope for Horus' safety. That was like giving a five year old a marshmallow and expecting them to not eat it. The universe hated Horus, and he hated the universe. The very world seemed to want him dead. Steve's luck may have taken a tumble into some forgotten ditch, but that was nothing compared to his.

A moment later, a crack of lightning shot up from somewhere over the hill. _Yep. He definitely smelled a rat. And I'll bet my left foot Steve still has no clue about- well, everything._

As long as Horus managed to keep his not-so-little secret from escaping into the world, they were sort-of safe (Safe? Those two? Ha! Not in this lifetime!). Though it depends on how you think about it really-

Alex shook the thought out of her head. It would do no good even thinking about it. People say gods can see a person's mind like a man reading a signpost. If that was the case, she'd be better off not thinking about it. It's not something a snooping god would ever want to hear in a girl's mind.

 _I know we've had our differences, universe, but please bring those two idiots back to me alive. I'm not done with tormenting Steve yet._

* * *

 _WHUMP._

"Yow!" I yelped as my head greeted a rock on my inglorious journey down the gravel hill. By 'inglorious journey' I meant tripping on a rock and rolling down the hill like some kind of idiot. Which I admit to being.

When I finally came to a stop, armor clanking and all, I took in my surroundings. I was in a reasonably large underground cave system. I heard the far-off moanings of distant zombies, and the sound of rushing water. It was an eerie place.

Yes, I was alone, underground, and lacking a darn pickaxe. Mine had fallen off the bridge when-

I tried to shove the memory to the back of my mind. Note the word 'tried'. I blamed myself, as always. One of my comrades in the Rangers had often teased me about a 'hero complex'. I also remembered that he died screaming when the Mad God showed up in the Aether with a thirst for blood. We worried too much about the Nether Prince and his monsters, and in process turned a blind eye to the other dangerous deities out there. We forgot that Herobrine wasn't the only killer capable of committing mass deicide. What gets killed by a god stays killed.

"Useless." I breathed out, fingers clenching hard enough for my nails to draw blood from my palm. "Useless, useless, useless. Why did you let them die? Stupid boy, why didn't you _save anyone?_ That was _your job, you bastard!"_ The last part came out as a shout. Great. All the mobs nearby have probably heard. _Let them come. I'll rip them into pieces. Or they'll rip me into pieces. Either way, it'll leave the world a better place._

 _Dying._ It wasn't a foreign concept to me, but _staying dead_ was. Before you wonder _why is this lackwit spouting shit,_ I'd like to explain why I am currently at the bottom of a _gods-damned borehole that goes down to bedrock_. I'd slipped on some wet surface some time ago (It's hard to tell the time when you are in a place that is so dark you can walk past a whale carcass and never notice it), and taken a plunge into some sort of hell-pit. I'd woken on the bottom of the said crevasse without any injuries, presumably because I'd knocked myself unconscious before I died, thus waking up this way.

That was not the worst of it. Beside me, written in a wispy skein of golden light, were the words _Respawn revoked._ So I can die permanently now. Thanks for the warning, Notch.

After more waiting, I discovered the zombies and other mobs did not seem to be interested in me. They must have known they choke if they tried to eat me.

 _Ah, godsdammit. If they won't come to me,_ I'll _go to_ them.

I set off towards the mob noises with a sword in my hand and suicidal determination in my head.

* * *

 _Drip, drip, drip._

The caves were silent except for the sounds of water dripping from the ceiling.

 _I'm still alive..._

He almost laughed at himself. Of course he was. Of course. Alive when all the others were dead and forgotten. But that was a very long time ago, when he had been young in the mind as well as the body, when he still had the remnants of a conscience. Bittersweet memories of the brief time he had been happy.

 _Void forbid I ever be happy._

 _(blood, blood. so much blood. so many screams)_

 _Funny what war and betrayal does to a person_.

He exhaled raggedly, every breath a red-hot dagger in his chest. It didn't bother him much. Certain experiences best left forgotten had given him an almost disturbingly high resistance to pain.

 _(sing for me, little bird)_

He pulled himself up into a hunter's crouch in one smooth motion, the pain in his chest multiplying into an explosion. He touched the wound in a ponderous way, fingers coming away slicked with a warm liquid. He dragged the back of his hand across the left side of his face, wiping away the blood on his lip.

 _Drip, drip, drip._

 _Those bloody compost-men._

 _(the screams of the dying rising into the air with the smell of rot)_

That was the name his now-deceased friends had come up for the leaf-creatures when they'd first fought them. He screwed up back there, he knew. He screwed up big-time. A flash of déjà-vu, and he'd been dragged back into the past by his still-healing mind. Just a brief moment, but that was enough. That, combined with the untimely earthquake, almost spelled his demise. He'd been very quick with the Ender Pearl, but it was still a close thing, and the Ender Pearl's aftershock almost killed him anyway.

It didn't kill him. Ender Pearls chip away at the user's magic as payment, even if the user is not a magician. Every being contained a certain amount of magic. But he had spent all of his because the sorcery tax from the Boundary Wall made even a simple spell costly. He hadn't judged the amount he was using, or anticipate the sudden fall into the crevasse.

And since he didn't have any magic to take from...

He brought out a torch from his Inventory and held it before his eyes.

 _Drip, drip, drip._

 _Blind. I'm blind._

He couldn't see a thing, not even with the torch so close to his face. He resisted a ridiculous urge to giggle like a madman. He hoped it was temporary.

 _(it's so dark... why is it so dark? aritas, where are you?)_

His supernaturally alert senses suddenly picked up on something. Mobs. A lot of them. He drew his scythe and twirled it around his fingers absentmindedly. It wasn't his first time fighting blind, and he still had his second sight, often referred to as mind-sight.

He rose from his crouch and bit back a wince as his back failed to straighten. He stumbled a bit, catching himself on the cave wall. He took a step forwards and his knees almost buckled. A coppery taste filled his mouth and he spat blood.

 _I'd never be able to fight like this._

He couldn't use his scythe, he couldn't use his magic, and he couldn't try to talk the mobs out of eating him, because they were, well, mobs.

So that left only one option.

 _Drip, drip, drip-_

 _(-forgive me.)_

* * *

"Be quiet!" I snapped, kicking a moaning zombie in the face. I'd dismantled the spawner, and the last zombie was apparently crab-walking around the dungeon, moaning with the volume of an air-horn and occasionally trying to bite my legs. I decided to put it out of its misery and sliced its head off.

At last, blessed silence.

That wasn't much of a challenge. I looted the chests and found a lot of useless things, iron and gold ingots, and a very curious box. It was all glowy, like something enchanted.

I spent the next few hours trying fruitlessly to open the box, without any positive results. Finally fed up, I tossed it at the ground with a loud 'dammit!'.

It opened.

I blinked a bit and picked it up again. There was a book inside, with glimmering runes carved into the binding.

I made to read it, then dropped it as the ground shook violently.

 _Bloody Nether, not again._

But something was different this time. It seemed like there was a center point to the quake, and the tremors were radiating outwards. I was pushed against a wall by the force-waves and the temperature seemed to drop by about ten degrees, even though it was already very cold here.

 _FWOOSH!_

I bit back a cry of alarm as the torch flames around the dungeon flared up three times its normal size, and the flames turned glacier blue. Ice crystals formed on the patches of wall the torch was placed on, which meant the flames must have been freezing cold.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The torches turned back to normal.

As fast as my reflexes could handle, I surrounded myself in stone blocks. My heart was beating so hard you could probably power on of Jeb's inventions if you hooked it up to an electricity generator (One of Jeb's other designs. Most of those blow up within minutes of construction).

Gradually, my nerves stopped jumping like hyperactive schoolkids and I worked up enough courage to deconstruct my stone tomb. Whatever that was, it certainly scared the ghost out of me. I wouldn't want to meet whatever monstrosity that caused the quake.

I suddenly remembered the book I'd looted from the dungeon. It was lying on the cave floor, opened to its last few pages. There was a very realistic miniature painting of a person, looking like it'd only been done yesterday. Whatever enchantment it was that preserved the book must have been very powerful.

I picked it up for a closer look. It was the picture of a young man with grey-blue eyes and an awkward smile. His neck-length hair was golden brown and unkempt. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, gray pants, and a leather apron. He was holding a blacksmith's hammer loosely in his right hand.

 _Huh. Interesting. Didn't know I picked up some long-dead person's sketchbook._

There was s smattering of writing beside the picture. Curiosity made me read the words.

 _Arlec Evetsor- Hey wait, House Evetsor as in Edin's House? The one that I grew up in? I guess I can spot a few resemblances..._

Anyway.

 _Twin brother to Arin Evetsor, older by half a minute. Excelled in the forge. Born in 0AC-_

Damn, this thing must be old. AC standing for 'After Creation'. The picture looking as realistic as it was, the person who did this must have seen Arlec with his own eyes. The year now was 999,999AC, which meant this thing must be hella old. Which also meant whoever it was may have being alive at the start of Creation.

Woah. I'm definitely keeping this.

 _-Died during the Dawn War, murdered in enemy captivity, year 19AC._

Okay, that was not a good way to die. What _was_ the Dawn War? Notch made a point of lecturing us well in the history of basically every war, but he'd been really vague on that one.

There was no more writing, so I flipped the page.

Another young man, almost exactly the same as the last. He was wearing diamond armour and had a diamond longsword in his left hand. His helmet was tucked under his left arm, and his smile was brighter than sunlight bouncing off a steel sword, unlike his brother's hesitant one. His hair seemed like threads of soft gold, and his eyes were electric blue.

 _Arin Evetsor. Twin brother to Arlec Evetsor. Skilled with a sword. Died during the Dawn War, murdered in enemy captivity._

 _What even is the Dawn War?_

I closed the book, deciding read it another time. When I wasn't in immediate danger of becoming a mob's dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever time of the day it was.

* * *

 _In the Void... a sort of Afterlife for dead Immortals_

* * *

A lost soul and a fallen angel conversed in a language long forgotten by humanity.

 _Do you remember your name?_

 _No... I am sorry._

 _Only to be expected at this stage. Do you remember anything about yourself? A nickname, a friend, a family member perhaps?_

 _I-I think... I had- have? -A brother... He used to call me Aki... short for Miraki (Troublemaker)._

 _Yes?_

 _I- we lived in a land in the sky... White castles and glowing trees... it was beautiful, more so than the world below._

 _Yes. Do you remember how you died?_

 _A being called the Mad God killed me days after I Reformed in the living world... A hundred years after my first death. I remember Aurorion screaming..._

 _(The soul grew more confident)_

 _That was your brother's name. The aftermath of dying so soon after Reforming damaged your soul quite seriously. Which is why you are in your current state._

 _I was a God..._

 _Correct._

 _My domain was Fire. I was one of the Primordials, the first Immortals to form in our world._

 _You used to be very powerful._

 _My brother was Ice. We were very close._

 _Aurorion took it quite badly, I'm afraid._

 _There was another Fire God, wasn't there? That's partly what stopped me from going back._

 _Pyria. A girl-goddess. She's dead now. She was born wrong, and she was too weak to handle the power of her domain. She simply... faded away, to put it simply. She was named after you._

 _Pyria. I hear her whispering sometimes, when she drifts close to me. We... because we once had the same domain... it's like she's drawn to me. Like a moth to a candle._

 _You were stronger. She sensed your power._

 _Pyria... Named after me..._

 _Love and Death named her to honour your life and death._

 _Amora and Delphos. How considerate of them. Pyria..._

 _(The other being was silent)_

 _Pyrien. My name. It's Pyrien._

 _(The soul embraced his name like a long-lost friend. Then suddenly-)_

 _(He could see. He saw the uncountable dead drifting through the void. He saw the Ether. The real world. The way out.)_

 _(And he saw the being who'd shown him it)_

 _You're-!_

 _Peace. Doubtless a number of souls in here would drag me down with them if they knew I was here._

 _How did you get here?!_

 _(A little pause)_

 _I died. How else?_

 _Oh..._

 _I could have gone back straight away. But I saw you and I had to take you back. It meant I had to sacrifice a few years in the real world..._

 _Thank you._

 _(Another beat of silence. Then the being said oh-so-softly-)_

 _No one has said that to me for a long time. Go, Pyrien. I have other business to attend to._

 _(Pyrien moved towards the Ether.)_

 _(Sudden urgency)_

 _-Don't tell anyone you saw me here, understand? Go to Jeb. Trust only him. Not even your brother._

 _I understand._

 _(Pyrien left)_

* * *

 **School camps...**

 **I've had a lot of them recently. I love camping but...**

 **Camping=No laptop**

 **Which in turn equals a hyperactive muse. Funny how my imagination works overtime when I don't need it to, but when I'm in desperate need of inspiration it tends to go on a vacation.**

 **Hyperactive muse=More story ideas... For other stories.**

 **That resulted in a shockingly large amount of procrastination, even for me (I love the word 'procrastination').**

 **So now all of a sudden, I have _six_ stories to deal with. Whoopee.**

 **Luckily, not all of them have been posted. Thank gods for small mercies.**

 **Anyway...**

 **Steve is no longer the comic relief character (well, at least not so much as before). He is destined for darker paths.**

 **MWAHAHAHAH-**

 **Ignore that. That sacred duty has been given to another, namely an idiot who doesn't have a name right now. I'll come up with one soon.**

 **Yes, if some god was to accidentally, or not-so-accidentally leave some part of skin, hair, or body fluid on a redstone circuit it would probably run for a hundred years straight, or more, depending on how powerful the god in question is (Jeb's ran for a few thousand years. Notch couldn't be bothered to watch a bit of light flashing for maybe a million years, and Herobrine has never been seen spitting on a redstone circuit, if he ever attempted such a thing). No, they wouldn't have to breath, ... not to sound like a Pokémon addict, but if let's say, our drunken icegod Aurorion unfortunately ended up in a bonfire, or a firegod somehow fell/was pushed overboard a ship, then Aurorion probably would have to stick himself in a freezer for a decade or so and the firegod would drown miserably. A Primordial god's (stealing from the Greek myths here, no one sue me please) appearance would be more of a construct, while a lesser god is more 'flesh and blood'. It's still more of a construct, which is why only a god can only be seriously harmed by another god's power. But if one of them happened to trip and falls down a staircase it's still gonna hurt, but if you decide to behead one of them they'll just laugh at you while their body comes after you with a megasized club. Augh.**

 **If a god happened to lose a limb during a drunken episode (And it tended to happen a lot, because if they get really, really distracted then their physical form is prone to separating from itself. They only have physical forms if they want to. Stay away from bars in the Aether at all costs. You do _not_ want to get brained by a floating foot), they could still control it unless they simply decide to abandon it. In which case it would start to dissolve into the energy associating with their domain (In a seagod's place, it may cause a Noah's Ark incident). **

**If it's just hair, then it'll just behave like normal hair, albeit being able to act like a magical battery. Notch had better watch his beard. Duracell will come for him with a pair of shears soon.**

 **They're beings of pure thought and energy, which means if one of them has PTSD then they'll randomly start bleeding when they're having an episode. They don't need to eat, but they do need to sleep once in a while.**

 **I hope that was explanatory. There's an explanation on Crafters a few chapters back. I added it recently.**

 **-Nano**

 _P.S, Please leave a review if you like the story, but if you don't, leave a review anyway!_


	13. There Be Ghosts

"He _what?!_ " Jeb shouted as he paced back and forwards in front of his newest invention. _The Dimensional-whatsit._ Pyrien really couldn't remember the full name of the giant device because it was something like three hundred syllables long. Apparently it was supposed to work like an Ender Chest, only you put miniature worlds inside it instead of items. Only Jeb apparently didn't know Hydros' stomach could do the same thing, minus the explosions. _He eats enough to form a nation in his digestive system, if gods had such things._

"Really, Jeb." Pyrien gave the Innovator his trademark crooked grin. "You'd think you weren't welcoming of my now continued existence." _A lot of people won't be,_ he thought dryly.

"That's because I'm _not._ " Jeb snapped as his pacing got faster and faster. To a mortal's eyes, he'd be walking so fast all they could see is a blur. "You get on everyone's nerves, ruin precious lab equipment with your silly antics, and worst of all, you spike my coffee in the morning! With _vinegar!_ " At the last part, he glared at the troublemaking firegod with all the venom of a maths teacher deprived of his daily coffee intake.

Pyrien gave him a placid smile. "That was once." He corrected. "And besides, most of your lab equipment is doomed to blow up anyway. I was only saving everyone the agony of waiting for the inevitable bottomless hole in the ground."

Jeb glared even harder. Pyrien could almost see his eyes straining to pop out and attack him.

"And what is even _worse_ than _that_ , _he_ has apparently mislaid all his common sense as well! Do you _know_ the price of bringing someone back from the Void, brat?" Jeb seethed.

Pyrien shrugged. "I would say I do, but then I'd be lying. Enlighten me, if you will."

Jeb stopped pacing at the speed of sound and looked directly at Pyrien over his askew spectacles, his steely grey gaze so fierce they would have set the boy-god alight if he weren't the personation of fire.

"There are... consequences for bringing a god back from the Void, especially a god in such a dire situation as you were." Jeb said darkly. Pyrien fiddled with his long black hair uncomfortably. He didn't need to be reminded of how close he'd come to fading away completely. The slight expression of amusement remained on his face, though, hiding any hint of unease.

 _(aurorion? why can't i feel you? where have you gone? where am i?..._

 _...who am i?)_

Pyrien turned his eyes to the window, so Jeb wouldn't catch a glimpse of the turmoil roiling under the molten gold surface.

"He'll have to stay there himself, to make up for your time. Although for a being of his power... may be that he could get out early." Jeb sighed, and ran a hand through his auburn hair. Apparently oblivious to Pyrien's sudden silence, he continued his pacing.

"Does he truly have no idea of what is going on right now? The End's blinked off the radar, and the Nether is disappearing and reappearing at odd times. I do not think it is Herobrine's work, though I never have an inkling of what goes on in that strange mind of his, never mind how hard I try to understand his motives." Jeb gave a harassed sigh and stopped by the window, his mind worlds away from the Aether Labs.

"If _Herobrine_ has already been taken out of this power game, what with his domains disappearing..." Jeb paused to let his words sink in.

"... then I don't fancy our chances."

Pyrien just gave him another sunny smile and teleported away.

 _... If Notch doesn't get back soon, then I don't fancy my chances either._

* * *

"A staircase." I said to myself out of sheer surprise. And indeed, a staircase it was. Carved into the stone and leading down to who-knows-what, without a single torch to light the way. The sheer randomness of it made me paranoid.

I gave it a sideways look. Yep, it was still there. Hadn't gotten swallowed into the ground while I was looking away.

I looked at the staircase, then looked back to where I came from. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually I gave up due to the problem of a headache. _Why not?_ I decided. I'd fallen through holes caused by mystery earthquakes, witnessed what was probably a mass ghost uprising (Or maybe one careless god mislaying a hairbrush), and found a book dating back to the creation of the world. I could eat this random staircase for breakfast.

Gripping my sword with my right hand and holding it so the light it cast lit my way, I descended into the gloom.

* * *

Quite a few unsavoury words ran through Alex's mind as the idiot boy dropped his sword for the _n_ th time.

" _No_ , you lackwit." She snapped, stomping up to the moron with all the ill-grace of a mudskipper left out in the sun for too long. "You hold it like _this_." She adjusted the boy's grip and stance. _Notch, this mockery of a boy is hopeless_. Just the other day, she was trying to teach him archery. Her wolf was rolling on the grass quite a long way behind them. _Ashariel was_ behind _us, and the idiot still managed to snag an arrow in his fur_. The _evangi_ had given him a look that was half hurt and half confounded as he pulled the arrow out of his fur (It hadn't drawn blood, thank Notch. Otherwise she wasn't sure the boy would have lived to see morning).

The day before that, she tried to teach him magic. Things went okay for a while, but then the stupid boy accidentally conjured up a personal rain cloud for each of them, (including the wolf) that followed them everywhere they went and would not go away no matter what spell Alex threw at it (Then again, Alex was more fire magician than anything else so water spells were not her forte).

The boy tripped over his sword and landed on his face, blond hair turning brown with mud. The sword stuck in the ground, quivering, as the boy made multiple failed attempts to get up, only to end up back in the mud as his feet slipped out from under him.

Alex whistled sharply, sending a snap of air to push the fool to his feet. The boy yanked the sword from the ground and trudged over to her, blade dragging in the dirt.

"Why must I train in this muck?" The boy complained. "It's just rained, the ground is muddy, and now I've got dirt up my nostrils! Even when I lived on a farm I never had dirt up my nostrils!" The pathetic boy stomped in emphasis, only to slip on the mud and fall miserably on his stupid face.

"Learn how to walk properly, and maybe you won't have mud on your face next time." Alex said indifferently. "Now clean that filth off your face. I trust you have not forgotten how to summon a small rain? Oh, wait, never mind. Of course you haven't. Not after you made sure we were all soaking and miserable _all day long_." Alex was still prickly about that. She hated getting wet. Ashariel, on the other hand, had just gone back to using the idiot for a licking toy after the rain stopped. It was impossible to make the wolf hate anyone he had taken a liking to, which was why he was currently out hunting so as not to further distract the stupid sockhead in his lesson. Not that it made a difference.

"But we're supposed to be heroes!" The gnat whined, taking absolutely no hints. "We're supposed to fight bad guys, not get ourselves muddy tripping all over the place."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You're the only one doing any tripping here." She pointed out. "And besides, if you can't even hold a sword, how're you going to fight a creeper? Creepers won't wait while you repeatedly drop your sword and crawl around looking for it with your face in the dirt. They'll just blow you into itty-bitty pieces." She grinned a wolf grin, bright and sharp as the edge of a dagger. " _Ssssssss... BOOM._ And then Andras the Pathetic will be Andras the Pieces, able to plague the world no more." She drew her hands together and splayed them apart, miming something exploding."

"But-"

Andras never got to finish his sentence. Alex moved so suddenly she left disturbed air in her wake, whipping past the boy's face like a fierce wind. In the blink of an eye, she was standing in front of him. A golden sword was held in her hand almost carelessly, blade rippling with the light of many enchantments. She moved again, slower this time, and took a casual fighting stance. It was so casual that if she wasn't holding a sword it wouldn't have hinted at being a fighting stance at all. Alex lifted her sword and flicked her sword wrist with a lazy grace.

The blade caught fire.

Gasping, the boy stumbled back. Alex blurred into sudden movement, sweeping the blade upwards and spinning, sending a shock of fire and a blast of air outwards, effectively creating a shockwave. Then she darted forwards, and then suddenly the boy's sword was flying out of his hand and his face was meeting its dear friend Mud yet _again_...

Andras sprawled into the dirt and looked up just in time to see Alex land from her backflip and put away her sword. He spat mud out of his mouth and stared at her in wide-eyed amazement.

"H-How..."

"Light feet, quick blade, and a bit of air and fire manipulation. And _those_ were only the easy parts. Showy, though." Alex answered, unsmiling. "You can learn if you put some effort into it, boy."

The fool nodded, still in awe. "W-who taught you? He must have been a god."

An fleeting sadness flickered across Alex's green eyes. "That he was. And much more besides."

* * *

 _Where?_

Some kind of haze gradually settled over my mind once I was down the stairs, creeping into my thoughts. The smell of ozone, and a tingling that filled the very air I was breathing. There was something old down here, a sense of sadness, a tragedy. The air was strangely warm, I could almost hear something humming and buzzing in the atmosphere. And overall, the lingering sense of melancholy.

My sword light flickered, and guttered out completely.

I didn't notice it much. It was like a veil dragged itself over my thoughts. But gradually I did notice it was dark, so very dark. _Light. I want light. Need light._

 _Want to see light again. The sun, the stars, even the fickle sly moon._

Scarcely had that thought passed my mind when my fingers suddenly lit up. I was surprised, though only mildly due to the psychic fog. The light detached itself from my hand and floated above my palm.

 _Old magic. Old cold magic, and the air is thick with it. They brought it here with them, and took everything else when they left. Ripped the world apart. Left only the traces of their magic,_ his _magic._

 _This place wasn't always here_ , I thought with a sudden certainty. By the light I now had, I could see I was in some underground cavern of enormous size, so big I couldn't see the other end of it. A lake lapped at a pebble shore, and around it were the shapes of barren trees. I touched one in curiosity.

 _Stone._

They were petrified. Whatever happened here happened a long time ago.

 _So very long ago..._

It was only then I realised the whispers weren't mine. _Ghosts_. I realised. Lost ones, who hadn't made it to the Aether or Nether. Whispering, whispering, because that was all they could do now.

 _Old, old, old._ They sang. _We were young once, when the world was but a newborn, but now we are old and forgotten. Want to see light again..._

They were drawn to my light. "Here's you light." I said giddily, the magic of the place giving a head rush. The ghosts didn't reply. I walked towards the lake in a daze, and then walked right _into_ it. The water parted as I made my way to the other side. There was an archway under the water, and then a stone doorway, the doors long gone. It was a castle of sorts, built like a maze on the inside. The further I went, the stronger the psychic haze got.

I dimly remember passing a pair of statues, carved into the likeness of two young boys who looked exactly alike but for their eyes. Liquid silver and royal gold, though the golden-eyed one looked like he was ready to smile and the silver-eyed one had no expression at all.

The golden-eyed statue turned its head and smiled at me, while the his twin's silver eyes remained cold and blank.

I didn't take much notice.

There was a painted maiden crying a river of tears, the tears cascading down the wall the maiden was painted on. A mosaic of a dragon on the ground that roared and flapped its wings.

A gate with a face drawn on it.

I stopped in front of it and the eyes opened. Milky white and unseeing, though sad and tired like those of a man who had lived for a very, very long time.

"Who goes there?" It whispered in a voice like rustling leaves.

"Steve." I giggled. "Nice to meet you."

Then it did something that I didn't expect even a talking gate would do.

It closed its eyes and a clear, viscous liquid leaked from its eyelids.

"Saron, Saron. Your brothers are dead." The gate sighed. "Your nephew as well. House Evetsor will soon be ashes and wind, I fear."

I frowned, the psychic fog lifting a bit. "I'm not from House Evetsor. I don't even know you. Besides, my name is Steve, not Saron."

"Almost a million years I have waited to say my piece." The face rasped. "Maybe now, I can finally rest." It was silent after that.

Then the psychic fog slammed down with a vengeance, and the next thing I knew, I was lying facedown in pebbles.

* * *

He was dripping blood everywhere, and he didn't need to see himself to know it. He couldn't see himself if he tried.

He almost fell quite a few times, but managed to stop himself at the last second. A fresh wave of pain sent him stumbling to his knees. He spat blood and struggled to his feet, and grimly continued on his trajectory.

 _Almost there._

He could feel the power of the place, the pain and anguish that lingered in the stones trees, and the fields that was once filled with so much sunshine and laughter. Now nothing remained of the once-haven but cold stone and dead memories. And ghosts. Lots of ghosts. Almost as many as the ones that followed him constantly, always lingering on the edge of his mind. Whispering, whispering, whispering about things that could have been. If he was given a second chance to go back again, he would do exactly what he did the first time around. But there were many regrets, dark and sad and numerous, _way too numerous_.

 _Regrets kill as surely as poison, though the killing is slower, quieter, and much more painful._

He could hear the ghosts whispering, though the words were not kind. _Traitor._ They hissed. _Liar, murderer._ He ignored them. He did not fear people when they were living, and so had even less cause to fear them when they were dead.

 _I'm alive and you aren't._ He reminded them silently, coolly. They responded with more whispering.

 _Not._

 _For._

 _Long._

In the darkness where no one could see him, least of all himself, Horus smiled, unseeing eyes as sharp as chips of ice and twice as cold.

 _We shall see._

* * *

The West Section of the Boundary Wall usually wasn't a busy place. A divider between the West Region (Denarya), and the South Region (Iskarr), it usually did nothing but sit there because no-one really crossed the Wall, due to some ancient feud between the four sections of the whole world.

But on this particular day, in this particular place named Brightwater Watch (Named so because it actually sat smack bang in the middle of the ocean. One of the oceans, anyway), a very noisy argument was carried out involving a small ship, several members of the Wallswatch, and a very petulant prince with his companions who were thankfully under the deck and out of the way.

"This is an outrage!" The prince ranted. "You, you lowborn scum! You dare refuse passage to the mighty Prince of Sylder?!"

The four members of the Wallswatch exchanged glances that were half amused and half exasperated. "Apologies, Your Highness." A grey haired man clad in the traditional white armour of the Wallswatch said in a jolly voice. "We weren't expectin' a prince of your status in our waters, Highness, else I might 'ave checked me history book so as to recognise who you actually are."

The prince sputtered.

Another Wallswatch guard, a younger man this time, nudged the greybeard with his elbow. "But you don't have any history books." The guard whispered.

Another guard, a woman with a man's build, snorted loudly. "Ol' Haldur might not have a history book, but he has a record of all the travelling circuses that's ever passed Brightwater. He's like to find our prince's in there somewhere if he tried." She said while picking her teeth with a dagger.

"You talk treason!" The prince spluttered. "My father will have you beheaded for this!"

The woman gave him an insolent look. "And how's he to manage that, Your Highness? The Watch ain't under no one's jurisdiction but its own. Such an act is like to bring the wrath of all the other kingdoms in Iskarr and whatnot down on your father's royal noggin, and Your Highness would be left without a kingdom to inherit, though I ain't seeing any harm in that." The two men laughed, but the elderly female Wallswatcher remained silent.

The old woman with a fierce stare and a hawkish nose tugged the younger woman's ear sharply, eliciting a yelp. "Behave yourselves." She told the other guards. "You act like donkeys, though they have more with in their left bum cheeks than all of you combined."

"I've been tellin' 'em that for as long as I can remember." A young girl laughed as she swept down the stairs to join the guards on top of the bridge. "Though the scoundrels actually seem to listen to you. They shoulda made _you_ the Captain of Brightwater Watch instead, Marge."

The prince scowled at the girl. "I demand to speak with your Captain-"

"Yeh. She knows." The girl snapped back at him, her manner changing from cheerful to irritated. "She's right in front o' ya."

Tevan looked around, turning this way and that. "I don't see her." He complained, expecting to spot a tall and somewhat imposing woman in a Watch Captain's dyed steel armour.

The guardsmen laughed, and even old Marge managed a smile. The girl looked unimpressed.

"That's me, yer dumb mutt." The girl jerked a thumb at herself. On closer inspection, the dyed dark grey armour under her black cloak _did_ shine like something metallic.

The prince flushed. Then, remembering that he _was_ a prince, he flushed some more. "How dare you! I- when my father hears of this-" And continued ranting for roughly half an hour. Finally, the Crafter girl had enough.

"Notch Almighty, what were ya donkey arses _thinking?!_ " The girl-Captain exclaimed. "Open the bloody gates and get rid of this blabbering trashbag _at once_!"

"Captain, he doesn't have the papers-"

"Bugger 'em bloody papers! Just get rid of the pompous fool. Let 'im bugger someone else."

Tevan stopped his rant. "That's right! Ha! You cannot deny passage to a Prince of Sylder!"

The younger guardsman sighed and pulled a lever. With a _KA-CHCK_ sound, the piston-operated seagate opened. The annoying prince sailed out laughing. "See you suckers! Peasants! Ha!"

Marge turned to the Captain with a faint frown on her face. "It's most unlike you to give in so easily, Darya."

"Give in? Hardly." The girl snorted. "Most of the kingdoms in Denarya require papers from a traveller who's come across the Wall. And ya know as well as I do that them idiots don't have no papers. If he happens to get caught..."

The younger woman smiled. "Clever, Cap. I ain't never regretted givin' yer my vote and I see I won't be startin' soon."

"I'll be subtly alerting our friends across the Wall of a couple'a vagabonds, then." The girl said over her shoulder as she walked back to the guard tower.

* * *

 _Just a little further... A little further._

Resistant to pain did not mean resistant to blood loss. He could feel the lightness in his head, the inability to breathe deeply enough. The ghosts clamoured for his death.

 _Die, die, die._

 _Maybe I should._ He thought, not for the first time in his life. _Do the world a favour._ Dying here would not be so bad. The place that contained memories of what he once was, what they _all_ once were. Besides, he had long grown indifferent to the idea of death. _Living, dying, living, dying. What's the point of it all?_

Maybe he should. No one would grieve. That, at least, left him feeling a little sad. He used to believe that many would grieve at his passing. _Traitors, all. And me the worst of them._

If anything, they would be relieved.

 _Promise me..._

His head dipped. _I'm sorry_. He mouthed silently, to a purple-eyed ghost no-one else could see. _I'm sorry._ She looked at him with hurt and accusation in her haunting violet eyes, never speaking a word. _I'm so, so sorry._ His eyes were dry, though, they always were. Even in the darkness where no one would see him, he wouldn't show weakness. The predator must not weep.

 _You promised..._

He did, he remembered. _There was so much blood, too much blood, all in the wrong place._ He made a promise. And then he broke it.

 _(fool, you fool. i promised her)_

His right knee suddenly gave out. He collapsed rather ungracefully on the cold stone floor, all the breath knocked out of him. The ghosts whispered gleefully. He didn't try to get up again.

 _All for nothing..._

His brother's golden eyes glared at him from the depths of his memory, the hostile expression quite out of place on his usually stupidly clueless but friendly face. _Traitor. Murderer._

 _Yes._ He thought tiredly. _All that and much more. I wanted to hate you, Brother. But I can't. Not even when my blood ran red down your shiny gold sword. You say I was a traitor, a murderer, but for all I did, I never spilled a drop of your_ ichor _before you got it into your head to kill me. Who was truly the traitor there?_

H _e_ closed his sightless eyes. _Perhaps you will get your wish after all..._

 _-the worlds are wide and full of wonders-_

His eyes snapped open. _Where did that come from?_

The red-eyed girl gave him a crooked grin, and fingers made from memories trailed through his hair and made a mighty mess of it.

 _(i cannot understand your childish obsession with my hair. you seem to be besotted with it.)_

The girl laughed, a light, musical sound. Her crimson eyes sparkled playfully.

 _You have beautiful hair. You're a beautiful person._ Her ten-year old face grew serious. _You shouldn't let yourself become so cold, Shrimp. You shouldn't make yourself so sad._ Phantom fingers brushed his jaw for a moment, evading his attempt to stop her. _You've got more than any of those wankers out there._ She made a vulgar gesture any parent would be shocked to see a ten-year old girl make at a certain direction. _The worlds are wide and full of wonders, Salt Shrimp, you just gotta look for them. Something out there can teach you how to smile again, I know._ She tilted her head and grinned. _That is, if I don't get there first._

He'd kept his silence. He regretted it now. He regretted not speaking to her when he could, not smiling earlier. Now it was too late. _Even you. I thought I could keep you, but I couldn't have that, either. Even gods die around me._

 _...the worlds are wide and full of wonders._

 _You're dead._ He told her, dry-eyed. _You, and the rest._

 _But you're not._ The little girl-goddess knelt and entwined her fingers with his, her blood-red eyes sad. _You're not dead yet. This isn't your time. Get up, you spineless Shrimp._

 _Let me die in peace, you brat._ He thought.

 _Coward._ She dropped his hand. _Are you so craven?_

 _Craven? No, just tired. Leave me._

 _No._ The tone of stubborn adamance almost did for him. It sounded exactly as if she was alive. _No. If you die, I die with you. You're the last. No-one else remembered me when I was alive. If you die, I die. If you won't live for yourself, do it for me. For Steve. Your promise, Shrimp. Keep your promise. The worlds are wide and full of wonders._

 _Steve._ The shock was like a slap to the face. _Purple eyes. The facial structure. The sense for ores. How could I have not seen?_

 _You win._ He pushed himself to his feet and struggled to stand. Then a step forwards. And another, and another.

The little ghost smiled, and vanished back into the recesses of his mind.

* * *

"How... what?"

I stared in disbelief at the bloody shape on the ground. I rolled him over to look at his face, just to be sure. Trails of blood ran from his eyes as if he was weeping red tears. But above all, he was _breathing._

Beneath the blood-matted back locks, a pair of eyes flicked open almost lazily.

They were bright silver.

 _Hello, Steve._

I promptly tripped over my own feet, hit my head on the hard ground, and blacked out.


	14. Blood, sweat, and vinegar (and tears)

_Keep out of sight of Aurorion_. Jeb says. _Don't annoy anyone important_ , he says. _Don't set fire to anything important_ , he says, _And definitely do not put vinegar in my morning coffee, you insufferable scamp!_

Pyrien made a point of doing all these things.

He didn't mean to do most of them, of course. He didn't mean to get caught by Aurorion while dumping the contents of a 2-litre bottle of dark vinegar into the Aether's public hot drink machine, or 'accidentally' making off with Amora's hairbrush (Notch knows she loses it often enough without his help. Does she even count as important?). He didn't mean to transform Notch's throne into a pile of ash (Why was it made of wood in the first place? Again, is it even important?), and finally, 'mistaking' (Oops) a cup of pure brown vinegar for Jeb's morning coffee.

Check, check, check, and check.

Jeb might as well as have asked for it.

Psh, it's not like anyone in the Aether (With the exceptions of Jeb and now Aurorion) actually knew of his resumed existence.

Anyway, it's not like he's done some of the other thing Old Brainy expressly forbade him to do, like _destroy the world as we know it_ , and _antagonise Herobrine_ (Which is basically the same thing).

Eh, maybe later.

As of now, he had other business to attend to.

Namely finding out whatever piece of doubtlessly important information Old Brainy was trying to hide from him.

And it wouldn't hurt to raid Hydros' food stash once in a while. Unless he got caught, of course.

* * *

"I thought you were dead." I repeated for the umpteenth time.

Horus gave me a narrow-eyed look and gestured to himself as if to say _well, you thought wrong_.

"How?" I asked, again for the umpteenth time. _How are you not dead? How did you even end up this close to dying?_

Like before, I received no answer.

Improbable things happen, I guess. Like the ghost village we were currently occupying. Stone, all of it. And _cold_. There were a lot of ghosts (For the lack of anything else to call them), and sometimes if you listened carefully, you could make out little scraps of what they were trying to say.

Right now they were screaming and howling, but generally not being very coherent. They seemed to be opposed to the presence of a being. A very _strange_ being who, the last time I checked, _didn't_ have silver light pulsing out of his eyes.

It had gone as soon as it had appeared. The light shut off suddenly, leaving only expressionless dark blue orbs. _Silver irises_. I wasn't even fully sure they were there.

He leant with his back against a wall, head tilted slightly backwards, eyes fixed on something far away.

"What are you looking at?" I didn't expect an answer. He hadn't made a sound since I found him drenched in the blood of a thousand other creatures and his own.

"Things that once were." His voice was so soft I thought I imagined it.

"Uh..." I didn't know how to respond to that.

We lapsed back into silence. Again.

Eventually, I had to say something.

"How badly are you hurt?" I asked. _Badly enough that he should be dead,_ I thought to myself.

He shrugged, the very effort of which should have him screaming in pain, but didn't. He tapped a place on his chest, then touched a long cut on his leg, and moved his slim fingers over his eyes.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

For a while, he didn't move. Then he did.

Horus snapped his fingers. The resulting sound, after so much silence, made me flinch. A pale silvery flame flickered above his hand, and he lifted it to his face.

I gasped very loudly and maybe overly dramatically.

Trails of blood ran from his eyes like tears, making red tracks down his face and his neck. Then I realised why he seemed to be looking into the distance.

"You're blind." I gulped.

He rolled his eyes. _Duh_.

"How did you-"

He mimed throwing something, then flinching. _Ender Pearl_.

Huh. I think I just got really good at charades.

He dropped his hand to his side and the flame flickered out. Just before the light went out...

"Wait-" I whipped out my sword. The blade shone so brightly someone could read a book under the light and not damage their eyesight.

I flinched at what I saw. "You've got a hole in your chest." I said numbly.

He flicked a lazy look at me. _So?_ I was almost convinced he was bluffing about being blind.

"It's a damn _big_ hole."

His eyes narrowed. _Drop it, Steve_.

"You're going to die." Gods damn miracle he hadn't already. "Not-... Nether, you're going to _die!_ "

He gave me a cool stare hinting at possible decapitation on my part. _I will kill something very soon, and if you're not careful, the 'something' might be you_.

I opened my mouth to say something possibly unwise, and shrank away from the promise of a painful demise in his eyes. "Let me dress it." I said instead. "I have potions."

After a while, Horus let up on the death stare and nodded once. Quickly, like he might change his mind any time.

I handed him a healing potion. He tossed it back quickly and shrugged off his coat. Waited patiently when I poked at the wound gingerly and waited for him to suddenly change his mind and snap my head off like a twig.

When he didn't do that, I dug a roll of bandage out of the depths of my Inventory and asked him to take his tunic off rather awkwardly. I was still sure he was going to snap my neck.

He sighed and took the roll out of my hands.

"Stop looking at me like you expect me to suddenly kill you." He said simply.

I gulped.

* * *

Life was all well and good when practically no-one knows you exist.

Anything Pyrien made a mess of simply got blamed on someone else. It was all very amusing, really. Apparently the deadbushes superglued all over the throne room was someone else's fault now, and so was the anti-gravity spell on Hydros' palace.

Jeb was pissed. Very pissed. He couldn't actually tell Pyrien off for... well, anything because his existence was supposed to be kept a secret.

That was good. If Pyrien manages to keep it up, he might actually make Old Brainy annoyed enough to tell him something. After all, he couldn't make Pyrien stop if he doesn't exist.

Pyrien: 1

Jeb: 0

Currently Pyrien was in a storage house he had found his way into. It had drawn his attention like chicken-pens draw foxes, and now, lo and behold, the fox was in the chicken-pen.

There were a hella lotta weapons in there. Some of them were really old, relics of some war Pyrien had never heard of (Being dead).

He snuck around a corner and whisper-whistled. A huge cannon glowered from the back of the hall in a _I-can-wipe-your-side-of-the-Wall-off-the-map_ sort of way (He made a note to fire it sometime. Preferably after aiming it in the general direction of the Aether Labs and one grumpy Inventor), and various other gigantic pieces of war machinery resided in their corners of the rather large room.

"Ooohh baby." He breathed out, momentarily distracted by the largest wrecking ball he'd ever seen.

He walked up to a catapult and ran his hand along the ropes. He briefly contemplated using it to launch Jeb into orbit. Then, all of a sudden, he darted behind the monster wrecking ball.

Voices. Footsteps. His supersensitive hearing picked up feathers rustling as well, so it must have been a group of Valkyries.

"I'm telling you, there _has_ to be someone in here." A voice insisted. Pyrien wrinkled his nose. _Do-gooders._ A bit like what another temporarily dead god from a different universe had complained about in the Void. Cops, he remembered they were called.

"But none of the wards were triggered." Another voice argued. Pyrien smiled a very smug smile. He prided himself at his extraordinary skill of breaking-and-entering. Though most of the time he never broke anything, especially security wards. He didn't have to if he could just slip past them.

The Valkyries proceeded to break into an argument. _Three_ , Pyrien counted, judging by the voices.

A few minutes of bickering later, they finally came to a conclusion.

"Fine, then. Since you're so eager to catch your bogeyman, _you_ can go in and have a look around." An exasperated voice said at last.

Nervous shuffling, wing-feathers scraping against the ground. Pyrien peeked out as the Valkyrie came into view. He quickly scaled to the top of the wrecking ball as the Valkyrie looked around himself warily.

 _Creeaak._

The Valkyrie jumped and cursed loudly. Pyrien set the wrecking ball swinging just a tiny bit...

And cut the rope it hung on.

The unfortunate Valkyrie didn't even have enough time to shout _PANCAKE!_ before vanishing under several tonnes of iron and a gleefully grinning boy-god.

 _BOOOOOM._

The noise it produced was probably loud enough to drown out even one of Aegios' farts (Notch knows _those_ were loud enough to scare _earthquakes_ into deep, dark holes, never to emerge).

Outside, the remaining Valkyries swore their feathery little hearts out.

Pyrien dropped from his spot and landed as lightly as a beggar's purse. He examined the severed wrecking ball and shrugged to himself. Meh, he'd be fine. Valkyries were built to withstand extreme forces as a precaution of various gods' sometimes unsafe antics. He'll probably wake up in a day or two with a splitting headache. And an everywhere-else ache.

Pyrien ducked behind a catapult as Valkyrie No.2 came in with a sword. A female this time. Pyrien figured he should be careful with this one. Females tended to be unpredictable and especially inclined to poke little holes in whoever sought to wrong them (Nether hath no fury as a female scorned). Intriguing species they might be, but Pyrien valued his bodily intactness, thank you.

He fiddled a bit with the rope on the catapult, and then rapped sharply on the frame. The Valkyrie snapped around in his direction and advanced slowly, her sword held in front of her. One step. Two steps-

The third brought just where Pyrien needed her to be.

With a snap of thought, an invisible force struck at the Valkyrie's left foot.

She slipped up immediately and fell face-first into the catapult's pouch yelling something that was probably extremely un-kid-friendly. At the same time, Pyrien loosed the ropes and set off the catapult.

 _TWANG._

The Valkyrie shot off with the velocity of a godly spitwad to join the orbit. _Well, adios to that_. Pyrien thought smugly. He turned around-

-To find the third and last Valkyrie doing a very good impression of a stranded goldfish.

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other both thinking along the lines of _what-the-Nether-are-you-doing-here_. Pyrien recovered first and muttered something out of the side of his mouth.

"Ah, screw this."

"...-"

 _FWOOM._

One blast of godly energy later, the Valkyrie was flying backwards through approximately four stone brick walls with four definite concussions. Hopefully that would erase the memory of seeing a supposedly dead god from his mind.

Pyrien quickly cleaned up the mess and re-attached the wrecking ball before anyone important came by with the intention of finding out what the Nether was going on.

Five minutes later, Jeb almost had a stroke.

 _"YOU INSUFFERABLE LITTLE BRAT!"_ He roared. Pyrien took one look at his face (Just long enough to think ' _oh, a tomato'_ ), and ran for his life.

* * *

"Now." Tevon cleared his throat importantly and unrolled a map with great and most definitely unneeded pomp. "We are here-" he waved vaguely at what was approximately a quarter of the whole map. "-and we need to get here." He gestured in the vague direction of a total of six Kingdoms and one small Empire.

The guards tried to look like they understood what was going on. They failed spectacularly.

"Now, I've been doing some research-" he grinned smugly, obviously very proud of himself. "-and the most amount of supernatural and possibly Herobrine-y sightings are around here," He indicated at a large area containing four cities, countless small countryside towns, and a mountain range.

The guards tried their level best to appear impressed. Most failed spectacularly.

"Our next stop is here-" he tapped on a city, then frowned, and pointed at another one. "No, it's-" he poked at another point on the map, and frowned again. "Ugh. Here." He said, prodding agitatedly at another city two thousand kilometres away from the first one. "Yeah, that's it."

The guards tried not to roll their eyes. Again, most failed spectacularly.

Tevon rolled the map up again and looked expectantly at the guards.

The guards looked expectantly at one another. Until one guard got tired of giving people expectant looks.

"Your Highness!" He exclaimed dramatically, falling to his knees. "Such ingenuity I have never heard of before!"

Tevon tried to look modest. He failed most spectacularly. "Oh, no need for that. I do this every day, and more besides."

The guards tried to not laugh and failed spectacularly. Luckily for them, Tevon was too occupied in his self-admiring to notice the storms of sniggering and gales of laughter.

The prince unsheathed his sword and struck a heroic pose. "Onwards we go!" He declared.

A guard passed out from oxygen deprivation. Later on, he would deny it had been caused by an overdose of laughter.

* * *

The village was full of life. Children ran laughing through the streets and chickens squawked and milled around people's feet. There was a joyful sort of quality just hanging in the air, along with a few pints of magic. You could feel it caressing your, murmuring soft songs there to be heard by whoever had the time. But over that joy, something seemed a little off about the people. Something dark and vicious. I was in the business long enough to recognise the hidden fear of the hunted.

The place seemed all so familiar, like I had seen it before, a long, long time ago. I shivered and the feeling passed.

A girl came up to me. She looked to be about ten years old, with hair as black as liquid shadow, and eyes red as blood but twice as bright. She had a light, elvish look about her, and was beautiful and graceful the way mortals could never hope to be.

"Hello." she said. Her voice was like liquid silver with a touch of music.

"Uh, hi." I replied confusedly.

"You must be Remembering something." she regarded me with a unreadable look. "Watch. But do not try to interfere."

Then she vanished in a whisper of shadow.

"Whuh?" Huh. That was weird.

I frowned to myself. I couldn't remember how I got here. Everything felt perfectly normal, but I couldn't remember how I got here.

I turned around to find myself face-to-face with a man who was walking directly towards me. I yelped out a warning as I tried to backpedal but he didn't seem to be able to see or hear me.

Nope, he just walked right through me as if I wasn't there.

"Notch!" I yelped. It was like I was a ghost. I was suddenly worried I'd died in my sleep and just didn't realise. Then the whole world seemed to suddenly draw in a breath and hold it.

An unknown presence infiltrated the atmosphere, the shadow of power making the air tingle and snarl.

The villagers tensed, and drew various types of weapons. Fire roared into life in someone's palm, and lightning crackled around another's clenched knuckles. Other, weirder things were happening elsewhere, and a flock of dragons darted in and out of the clouds. I never knew so many dragons existed, I thought the Ender Dragon was the only one.

A cavalry on winged horses pranced about in the sky, and not far off a volcano erupted into brilliant orange flames which coalesced into the shapes of huge birds made of fire.

The world waited.

Then, as if a signal had gone off, it burst into chaos.

Strange manlike leaf-bird creatures like what we saw on that bridge, stone golems, golden lions with beaks and wings and many more weird creatures swooped out of a flare of lime-yellow explosion. A silver and gold dome dome of light flashed into existence over the village, but soon the silver light gave out under the snaps of other-coloured energy and the gold went not long after.

The two worlds clashed and one broke.

I tried to summon my sword to no avail. I couldn't touch anything, as I found out by attempting to punch a wall. I yelled in frustration as a dragon fell from the sky and crashed next to me, its shredded wings flapping uselessly as it tried to unleash its sputtered-out flames, the white flying horse with a single pearly horn who had caused its fall pinned under its maimed wings. The skies would have been sunny and clear if not for the screeching battling creatures that now turned it into a storm of feather, scales and blood.

I gave up when it was clear I could do nothing but watch, as the girl had told me.

A man strode out of the swirling portal, the mere aura of his power making the air scream and shiver. He raised a immense double-bladed battleaxe and sent out a single power-charged thought.

 _:Challenge:_

Gradually I noticed someone walking slowly across the field to meet the god. A boy, looking no older than seventeen, though his aura shouted out with the same power as the other's. He walked like someone resigned to his fate, someone who knew he was walking towards a battle he could not win. His sword, which shone royal gold like a miniature sun was clenched in his right hand while his left was stuffed deeply into a pocket. His black curls obscured his eyes and most of his face, though from what I could see he was quite comely. He seemed a bit familiar, though I couldn't for the sake of me recall a god like him.

The man smiled like a shark about to be fed.

The boy-god raised his head, his black hair falling back to reveal blazing golden eyes, the same shade as his sword.

 **"Where is my brother, you bastard? What have you done to him?"**

* * *

 **I am extremely sorry for the neglect. However, I will probably be doing more neglecting. I've got school camp after school camp and teachers from out school do not permit technology during camps. Damn.**

 **And there is the matter of homework and end-of-year tests...**

 **Ugh.**


	15. Saving The Worlds (or thinking about it)

Chapter Fifteen: Saving The Worlds (or thinking about it)

* * *

The Aether Labs were in considerably serious upheaval (Noting the fact it hadn't been blown up for the _n_ th time, which is actually an achievement).

It may or may not have something to do with the two dogs- sorry, _gods_ currently running amok at the speed of sound inside it breaking things.

 _"BRAT!"_ Jeb roared. _"STOP MOVING AND COME HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU!"_

 _"NO!"_ Pyrien yelled back. _"IF I STOP MOVING YOU'LL KILL ME!"_

The two seemed to be presently engaged in a game of cat-and-mouse, with Pyrien scampering (at approximately the speed of sound) along the shelves and seemingly trying to play the-floor-is-lava and Jeb charging around on the ground (at approximately a bit less than the speed of sound) attempting to catch the pest while trying not to damage his precious lab equipment.

Pyrien scampered and Jeb bulldozed. Then Pyrien just 'happened' to knock an anvil off a rack, which also 'happened' to fall on Jeb's head. Anvil and head came together in a contest of who-can-squish-who, and the anvil came off considerably second-best, which meant Jeb now had an impromptu metal hat that 'happened' to obscure his eyesight and had the shape of his head imprinted into it.

Which just led to more colourful and ear-destroying loud cursing. Pyrien proceeded to head in the direction of the Lab storage facilities.

There was a _Boom!_ and a _crash_ that followed as the troublemaking boy-god succeeded in escaping into the storage facility.

 _"WHEN MY HANDS FIND YOUR NECK-"_

Abrupt silence.

Pyrien peeked out from behind the doors and cast a cautious look at the swirling portal in the Dimensional-whatsit.

Yep, he was gone.

The wires Pyrien had nudged into place was tangled into an indescribable mess over the opening of the strange device. One of Jeb's shoes were caught in it.

Pyrien tiptoed over to the device and peered in, making sure not to lean too far over the side. The swirling portal glared back as if to say _and what are_ you _looking at_? No Jeb suddenly jumped out of it to scare the tripes out of him. Pyrien shut the lid of the device and huffed a sigh of relief.

 _Then_ Jeb materialised behind him.

Pyrien, caught up in his scrutinisation of the box, did not notice until the Inventor tapped him on the shoulder.

" _AAAAAHHH!_ " And then there was a hole in the roof from where Pyrien had achieved take-off through.

Pyrien managed to land himself from his superhuman jump with breaking anything, not even the roof he landed on (Another achievement). After a few moments of Jeb not showing up and decapitating him on the spot, Pyrien hesitantly stuck just enough of his face over the hole he made to see Jeb standing in a resigned way in what was left of the Aether Labs.

"Come down, Pyrien." And just in that moment, Jeb actually looked his age. "I will refrain from murdering you horribly. There is some bad news I should have informed you of."

Pyrien looked down his nose at Jeb. "Please don't tell me Notch got drunk while I wasn't watching. I would hate to have missed that."

"Be serious, Pyrien." Jeb sighed, without even rolling his eyes (This day is full of achievements). "The worlds may be at stake."

Pyrien wrinkled his nose distastefully. "It would be awfully inconvenient to have the worlds ending now, wouldn't it? Alright, gimme some intel, old man. I'll see if I have the time to save the world."

After all, it's really nothing he hadn't done before.

* * *

The Wallswatch guard frowned down at Alex. She gave him the sweetest smile she could.

"No." The guard said finally, looking torn.

Alex arranged her face into one of desperation. "Please, sir. My gran's dying over there. I couldn't make the time to apply for a pass."

The guard's expression went through several rapid transformations. "I'm sorry, miss. I can't lets you pass without a form."

Alex sighed inwardly. "Alright then." she said in a sweet voice. "You can't say I didn't try."

The guard frowned some more. "Wha-"

That was as far as he'd gotten before Alex whipped her frying pan out of her Inventory and clocked him on the head with it.

The guard dropped like a sack of fertiliser. The others on the Wall expressed varying degrees of alarm and a small platoon of soldier swarmed down to apprehend the orange-haired teen (Though since she _is_ a Crafter it would be best to not make assumption about her age).

A few moments later, the entire force stationed at Floodmark Watch were lying unconscious in a mountainous pile of limbs, and Alex was replacing her frying pan into her Inventory.

"Ashariel, Moronic Idiot." she called. "These nice people have just agreed to let us pass." She prodded the head of an unconscious guard with her foot.

One dripping wet boy and one dripping wet Netherwolf emerged from the cover of a nearby thicket of trees.

The stupid boy sneezed. The wolf sneezed, and shook water everywhere. Alex skipped back a step to avoid being spattered on.

"Where are we going n- _choo_!" he sneezed again.

Alex gestured ahead of them, at the other end of the gate. "What does it look like, halfwit?" she said in an acidic tone. "We're crossing the wall illegally, you dumbass."

"I thought you said we were going through the Nether!" The boy complained loudly. "It would have been much more heroic!"

Alex rounded on him, eyes ablaze. "Be quiet, you fool!" she shouted. "You have no idea, do you? _You have no idea!_ " She exhaled and spoke again. "Life is not a fairytale." Alex hissed coldly. "Do _not_ let me hear of your 'heroic' nonsense again. The Nether is not something to be trifled with. You would only enter it if you had no other choice."

The terrified boy nodded quickly, anticipating the re-emergence of the dreaded frying pan.

"Besides," Alex murmured to herself, "We're making up for lost time. The others would be quite a long way ahead by now."

 _If they haven't died yet._ She added.

* * *

Dead people everywhere. Dead others things, too.

I flinched as a spike from a dragon's tail hit the ground near me. Everything had gone quiet again- mostly because everyone was mostly dead.

I don't know what happened to the boy-god with the golden eyes or the man. In fact, I don't know anything of what happened after the 'challenge'. The village was mostly burnt and ruined and some other things that I couldn't quite identify.

The skies were grey. Fog everywhere. I couldn't see fifty meters in front of me. Then, like a snap of a finger, godly energy whipped through the still air.

The man stepped into view. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed- no, scrap that, he looked like he woke up on the floor, and then lost a fight with a furnace who had a cactus for a buddy. Half of his face was literally glowing red-hot and there were multiple slash marks and dents all over his body. Of the boy there was no trace.

 _Clink, clink, clink._

Chains jangling. The man turned a foul-tempered look in the direction the sound was coming from. A limp figure was dragged through the mist in chains and deposited roughly in front of the man. It looked like the boy from earlier, though something about him felt so entirely different I was instantly convinced it wasn't the same person. Like the one before, he had black locks that obscured one eye from view. The other one was closed.

The man smiled and stepped forwards, his battleaxe scraping across the path.

 _:Your brother was most insistent on asking after your wellbeing:_

The figure didn't reply.

After a while of waiting the man got bored and raised his axe.

 _:Fight me:_

The chains melted away. The boy's eye opened just by a tiny fraction and I caught a glimpse of silver. The corner of his lip curled upwards just a little-

 _(_ _a smile like the edge of a blood-slicked scythe-)_

 _"Very well. Do keep in mind that you asked for it."_

Suddenly, everything went still and all colour leeched out of the world.

A whisper of shadow, and the girl from before was back again. Though this time there was something different about her, something _wrong_.

She looked around in desperation, one of her hands clamped on the side of her neck. She spotted me and ran towards me.

"Hi." I said uncertainly.

"Pass on a message for me." she begged. "Please."

It was then I noticed the rivulets of red seeping through her fingers, and that she was drenched in liquids of various colour and there was steam and light rising of her in puffs. Having spent time in the Aether, I correctly interpreted the different substances as _ichor_ , which is to say, godly blood. I almost choked on my tongue.

"No time." she interrupted me before I could say anything. "Tell the one who calls upon the Void that-" she paused a bit and coughed, a trail of crimson escaping down her lip. "Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him to look to the future, and that the worlds are wide and full of wonders-" another cough blotted out whatever else she was trying to say.

"Wait-" I started.

The scene began to fade out entirely. The last thing I saw was the world of anguish behind the blood-coloured eyes.

...

I woke up with a cry of frustration and immediately noticed something very strange.

Horus leant against a wall, his head tipped back. Everything about him indicated that he was asleep. Everything but his eyes. They were opened, barely, just by a slit. But that still wasn't the strangest thing.

No, that would be the hint of silver light pulsing out from under his eyelashes.

* * *

Alex, being Alex, had thoroughly raided the Wallswatch post, which meant they now had horses. Fine ones at that.

Fine horses frogshit. It didn't stop them from throwing their riders and bolting when the ground rebelled against all restraint. Which, in other words, meant that it seemingly took umbrage against the tiny nits and lice walking all over it.

"Ai ai ai ai ai!" the idiot wailed as he was tossed bodily from his horse and almost trampled to a miserable and inglorious end.

Alex leapt just before the horse bucked hard enough to throw her. She twisted around and smacked the rebellious horse with the flat of her blade hard enough to knock it out. The animal crumpled to the ground at the same time as Alex's graceful landing. The other horse ran off to seek the horizon and escape from utter stupidity. Ashariel ran after it for a while then decided he couldn't be bothered.

"I _am_ very sorry for this." Alex murmured to the unconscious and mud-splattered horse as she gave it an apologetic pat on the head.

The moron sputtered mud and rolled slowly to his feet before slipping again. He simply pushed himself to a sitting position and stayed there.

Alex frowned down at him. "Now look what you've done. We've got just that one horse between us now, and you know who's _not_ going to be riding it."

The boy groaned. "Me."

Alex gave him a sweet smile. "Quick as always." she agreed. "Now get your arse off the ground and start walking. I'll even give you a head start."

"What?!" the lackwit sputtered. "You can't just leave me behind!"

"I can. And I'll prove it if you don't move fast enough. Run along now, there's a good boy."

The Netherwolf _woof_ ed and gave Alex a puppy-eyed look that clearly said _c'mon-that's-just-unreasonable_ , which was totally and utterly wasted on her.

Andras gave a sigh that reeked impressively of misery and started trudging at a pace that reeked even more of misery.

"What was that, anyway?" the boy asked halfheartedly, not really expecting an answer.

Alex paused just as she cast a spell of awakening on the downed horse. For a while, she was not sure what to say. Then she made up her mind and decided to actually tell him something (For once).

"Something extremely unwelcome and possibly unpleasant and probably very, very powerful is intruding in our multiverse." she said reluctantly. "The earthquake just then is what's called a weft shake. It's a warning to the Guardians."

"Guardians of what?" the boy blinked stupidly.

Alex's scowl came back in full force and she vaulted upon the back of the now-awakened horse. "I'll tell you if you're still alive by the end of today."

* * *

I prodded him a little.

"Hey...? You awake or asleep? Or just being creepy?"

No reaction.

I poked at him again. "Y'know-"

Before I knew what was going on, my back was suddenly pressed against a wall and there was something very cold and possibly deadly sharp at my throat.

Silver blazed, and then faded back to dark, bottomless blue.

Horus removed his scythe from danger range and walked away. Feeling more than a hint peevish, I called after him.

"Kindly tell me what the _Nether_ that was about. Oh, and also the weird silver light thing. Last time I checked, there wasn't a problem with my mental health, so don't try to convince me I imagined that."

"..."

"Don't you _dare_ dot dot dot me!" I shouted. "This cavern is keeping me sufficiently in the dark and _you_ do not need to do it too!" my voice bounced off the said cavern and stirred the invisible spirits into a frenzy.

He paused.

"I do not think you would want to know." he said quietly. "Giving you nightmares and depriving you of sleep would not help us accomplish our goal."

I threw a glare at his back. "I'll be the judge of that. You'll deprive me of more sleep if you keep me wondering."

He looked at me over his shoulder. It was a lifeless look, one devoid of all emotion or purpose.

"Very well." he answered in an utterly blank tone. "Do keep in mind that you asked for it."

 _...do keep in mind that you asked for it-_

Where did I hear that from?

"The earthquakes before." he began, "They are called weft shakes. They are essentially a warning system built to alert the Guardians of a unbeneficial presence in home territory. Which is to say, our worlds."

I blinked. "Guardians?" I asked.

"Every Realm has at least one, Or at least, should." he walked closer to me and flicked his fingers almost lazily. A hologram sprang up, with four glowing spheres, each a different colour.

"Jeb in the Aether." A crude picture of a smiley face with a beard traced itself over the white-and-gold sphere. "The Dragon in the End." A hologram of a tiny dragon flickered into life on top of the purple-and-black sphere and roared silently. "The Wither in the Nether." The rough shape of a thing with three heads appeared on the red sphere.

"Wait wait wait." I interrupted. "I thought it was Notch in the Aether and Herobrine in the Nether."

Horus didn't even look my way. "They are not Guardians. They are the one who _created_ them, and everything else."

"Isn't Notch the Creator? Herobrine is supposed to, y'know, just... _break_ things."

"One lesson that you have not yet learnt, Steve, is that the multiverse does not give a flying _fart_ for what you do or do not believe."

"Oh..."

For a moment, no one spoke.

"Wait, what about the Overworld?" I prodded.

The hologram dissolved. "And therein lies the problem." he replied. "The Overworld does not have one."

Right. "And what doe that have to do with what I asked you?"

"Everything." he answered with such icy finality that I knew to ask further was to risk transformation into a corpse. I stowed my resentment away for later and instead brought up another subject.

"You said you'd teach me magic."

Finally, he made eye contact.

"Yes, I do suppose I did." he sighed in a resigned way.

* * *

"So," Pyrien concluded. "The multiverse is in trouble and you, the mighty Guardian of the Aether, need my help."

"That is the essence of it." Jeb sighed regretfully. "In the case that there are any spies or traitors among us, you will not be missed. Besides, you are sufficiently powerful and, though I regret having to say this, intellectually advanced enough to actually be able to poke a dint in a powerful enemy."

"You sound so grateful that I am immediately drawn to the desire to serve." Pyrien murmured with more than a drop of sarcasm. "Why can't you just do it the old way? Notch and Herobrine double-team the sorry loser and beat the tripes out of him, and we all go back to sitting on our arses and getting fat." his eyes flicked up at the last sentence.

Jeb sighed for the _n_ th time. "Herobrine... is not who he was. Notch is missing, as you can tell."

"Yes yes, all very convenient. What exactly happened to the both of them, eh? Little family spat?"

Jeb scratched his beard. "That was the newest understatement of the millennia, but yes, you could say that."

"By the way," Pyrien said casually. "Who was the one who actually beat the bastard in the end?"

Jeb frowned. "Which one?"

"The one who killed me." The firegod sounded so calm it was as if he _wasn't_ talking about his own death.

Jeb sighed again. "Notch and Herobrine."

"Yes." Pyrien clapped his hands. "So as my first idea as the saviour of the worlds, I'm gonna propose we find both of them and put them in an empty room with the said sorry loser. Problem solved."

"I told you Notch went missing-"

"What is missing will always turn up unexpectedly and most annoyingly. Probably between one's sofa cushions. I'm always losing things there." he grinned a lopsided grin. "Anyways, I'll find Notch somehow. He's probably ended up in a lost-and-found basket somewhere."

"I would not go in a fifty-mile radius of Herobrine if I were you." Jeb said darkly.

Pyrien's smile was so infectious the grumpy Inventor almost returned it. "No you wouldn't." he agreed easily. "Then it is a most fortunate thing that you are _not_ , in fact, me."

* * *

 **Got camp tomorrow. Did this at midnight. If there are any unfortunate mistakes, please take it up with whichever god invented the ailment known as "lack of sleep".**

 **-Nano.**


	16. Let's Go To Hell (Yay!)

_Chapter Sixteen_ : Let's Go To Hell (Yay!)

* * *

"Teach me a healing spell." I said.

Horus didn't look up from the rune circle he was drawing. His blindness wore off some time ago.

"I want to help. You're injured." I pressed on.

The _scritch, scritch_ sound of chalk on stone slowed to a stop.

"No." he said finally. The scratching started up again.

I scowled. "Why? There won't be any damage done to your pride, if that's what you're thinking." I'd met a few people like that, who would rather go through the respawn process than be helped by someone else. Honestly, I reckon they'd died so many times their brain cells must have forgotten to respawn themselves.

No answer.

"Why?" I asked again, resisting the urge to raise my voice any louder. I really had no idea what the ghosts could or could not do, but I didn't want to agitate them more than I should.

He looked up, dark eyes narrow and face utterly devoid of anything at all. "A healing spell takes more than a killing one." he replied, chalk disappearing back into his Inventory. "A lot more than you have, even with all the sorcerous residue in this place."

 _Creation and destruction._ The ghosts sang. _It is an easy thing to kill, but a hard thing to heal. We have learnt..._

 _We have learnt..._

I crossed my arms. "Fine. Teach me something else, then."

He touched the circle with his left hand and blue-white light flared up from every mark the chalk made. It travelled up his arm and turned his hand into a white glowing apparition. Tendrils of light snaked up his neck from under his collar and stopped, pulsing. After a while, the light faded back into shadows.

I peered at the ground to see no trace of chalk. "Huh." I prodded at the place where the circle was. "Neat."

Horus stood, shrugging his coat back on. I looked up and tried to form a glare (Note the word 'tried').

"You shouldn't be walking around right now." I said.

"You should not try to patronise people." He replied calmly. "We need to keep moving. Get obsidian for the Nether portal. I have plans to cross the Wall before the second coming of Notch."

I gaped, jaws flapping like a stranded fish. "D-did you just... did you just make a _joke_?"

The stare I received in return was so flat it could've shamed a pancake. "No." Horus answered in an equally flat tone. He paused for a moment and the light from my sword (Which I had left lying on the ground) flickered and faded.

"Hey!" I yelped. "What'd you just do to my sword?"

"Since your sword has now unfortunately stopped providing light," He drawled, completely ignoring my question, "You must make your own."

I snapped my fingers while at the same time demanding light from my surroundings as I had done before. An orb of luminescence immediately materialised above my right hand and I smiled in satisfaction. "How about that?" I said smugly.

He'd already walked off into the darkness of a grove of stone trees. "Now try and keep it that way" He said, waving a hand casually in my direction without looking at me once.

I scowled as hard as my face would allow and set off in pursuit.

* * *

The houses, the layout, were still the same. Even the trees were mostly intact, petrified as they were.

The Evetsors' underwater mansion was evidently undamaged. The Altem, with its hallowed grounds and statues and tall iron spire, all the brilliant silver and gold paints long faded into the forgetful darkness.

And the little house with the yard filled with glass shards. Petrified, of course, but everything -down to the minutest details- were all still recognizable. The broken shafts of now-ancient arrows sticking out of the spiky mass here and there, silently mocking.

 _You can't forget, you silly boy. You should know by now._

Fickle fate had a habit of playing with him. He really shouldn't have been surprised.

He turned his back on the house with the yard full of glass shards, and walked away into the silent, stony grove.

He can't forget, but he can damn well leave it to rot.

* * *

"I give up." I collapsed to the cool stone floor and determined to never get up again.

As soon as we passed the invisible line that marked the end of the weird place, maintaining the light became a Herculean effort. Maybe this place was a magical dead spot or something. Or maybe magic doesn't work close to lava. Or maybe it was because I was hungry.

Nah, can't be it. I'm always hungry.

"No." Horus said blandly, as if reading my thoughts. Maybe he was. "This is simply how strong you are."

Where's a convenient hole when you need one? More importantly, where's a convenient hole when you _don't_ need one?

"And I am not reading your thoughts. Your face is like a signpost."

Great.

I groaned unenthusiastically.

"Why did we come here again?" I complained.

"To get obsidian for a Nether Portal."

My head snapped up almost immediately. "Wha-" I spluttered loudly. "You're _still_ bent on suicide? You know what, we could just jump into this convenient pool of lava here and save ourselves some trouble."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You are under no obligation to follow me around like a dog. If you prefer, you can simply go back and turn yourself in."

I sat back down and folded my arms, but otherwise stayed silent.

"No?" Horus cast a cool glance my way. "Then I have, ah, _suicide_ to get back to."

I watched with some measure of reluctant fascination as he leaned as far as he could towards the lava pool and traced a blue symbol onto the stone. It sorta looked like a straight line with a downwards hook at the top.

I can't place a finger on it, but it somehow looked really familiar. The feeling was like seeing a picture of a friend you knew as a kid but kinda forgot about until you saw it.

"That's-" I started to say, and then stopped, surprised I'd spoken at all.

He tapped lightly on it. "Laukr." Horus finished for me.

A jet of water erupted from the mark and doused the entire pool of lava, making a lot of Insta-Obsidian.

"Huh." I scratched my head a little. "That's pretty neat."

"It is." Horus agreed easily. "And do you know what will also be neat? You mining that obsidian while I sit back and relax will be neat."

"I-" I started to protest.

"Surely you wouldn't want to force an invalid to work?" He said innocently, while subtly drawing attention to his injury.

I sighed through my nose. Trust him to make use of everything for his own gain. "Fine." I said. "But I don't have a pickaxe. I lost it when I fell."

A flash of silver instantly set me on high alert. "Relax." He drawled. "I can't kill you yet." He flipped the scythe so he was gripping it by the blade and offered it to me, handle-first.

I took it warily, keeping an eye peeled for anything strange. When I didn't die, I cautiously edged up to the obsidian and tapped it with the pick.

Still not dead.

I took that as a sign that it was safe-ish and promptly spent the next few minutes mining any obsidian I could reach provided it didn't include me falling into into the lava. There were a few close calls-

"Hold on a sec." I gaped at Horus. "What are you doing?"

He blinked at me innocently over the rim of his teacup. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He deadpanned.

"Uh... Never mind." I muttered. I really should stop being so surprised now. By the way things are currently going, a squid will fall out of the cave ceiling in five minutes and explode, and I will not be surprised.

I set up the Nether Portal as best as I could (There were a few hasty adjustments with the pickaxe due to klutzy placement - Whoops).

Horus tossed me a piece of chalk, which I managed to roughly sort-of catch after a great deal of fumbling.

"Draw a _K_. On the obsidian. Doesn't matter which block" I did that. "Now rub out the line that tilts downwards."

I studied the final result. Again, like with the rune before, it looked familiar, like I knew it but just forgot (I make a habit of forgetting things).

"That rune is called _Kaun_. It stands for unpredictability, wildfire and mortality. Don't use it unless I'm around. It has a nasty little habit of backfiring on amateurs."

I looked at it suspiciously. It didn't look like it was capable of crisping me like a prawn on a barbecue, but then again, Notch didn't look like he could create a closet without getting completely lost after the first two minutes, much less the universe.

"I'm sure the cave floor is very interesting, Steve, but we really must hold off on the contemplation of the universe for the moment." Horus said placidly.

"I wasn't studying the cave floor... Never mind." I gave up. Giving up seemed to come naturally to me these days. I touched my finger to the little mark the way Horus does, and silently commanded it to work or face the wrath of a sponge.

The symbol flashed green, and a tongue of flame burst from the obsidian. I suddenly felt like someone had taken a saucepan to my head (I wonder who... not the girl with the carrot coloured hair, surely?).

When my vision cleared again, I was staring at the cave ceiling with a dull throb complaining at the back of my head.

"I may have forgotten to mention something." Horus said casually. "There's a toll to be paid for the use of magic, and first timers may experience some nausea."

"Forgotten?! Tell that to the bruise on the back of my head! Horus, I hate you!" I exclaimed loudly while still lying on my back. The echoes of my shout bounced of the cave walls and I immediately covered my mouth. If there were Mobs nearby...

Well, we were screwed anyway. Either way, the Nether waits around the next corner with a creepy grin and a megasized club...

Best not to think about it.

* * *

"Oh. My." Alex poked the idiot with a stick. "Still alive? You're awfully stubborn."

Said idiot groaned through a mouthful of dirt. He was quite multicoloured at this point, and not because of a paint accident.

"Get up." Alex prodded him again. She added a little poke with her boot for good measure.

"Unnggfff." The fool moaned. He made no move to get up, or put himself in danger in any other way.

Alex planted her stick in the ground and frowned at the boy. "On three. If you're not up by then..." She let the silence do the rest of the talking.

The moron didn't move.

Alex shrugged. "Your choice. Last warning, boy."

"Guh."

Alex smiled a dangerous smile that could clear out a bustling street in seconds on a clear day. "I'm going to start counting..."

" _Three._ "

The idiot jumped to his feet as if struck by a dead slug, just in time to get hit in the face by a saucepan.

"WAAAH!" He shrieked as he flew backwards by about five feet and landed on his butt miserably.

"No-" He clamped his mouth shut before the word ' _fair_ ' slipped through. One time was enough, thank you.

"Now pick up your stick."

The idiot took one look at Alex's face and immediately did as he was told.

Alex smiled. "Good boy. Let's try again, shall we?"

The halfwit wondered if he should scream in pain in advance.

* * *

I stood one step away from the swirling purple light cast by the portal and had enough second thoughts to fill up the rest of my (possibly very short) life.

"We're gonna die." I stated. "Just so you know."

Horus raised an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself. Living is a favourite pastime of mine that I am not keen to give up on any time soon."

"When I die I want to be buried in the Overworld. In a place looking out towards the sea."

"I'll try. Now get in the portal."

"And say goodbye to Alex for me. Though I'm sure she'd be happy to see me goAAAHH-"

My left foot suddenly slipped out from under me. While falling face-first into the purple mist of doom, I caught a glimpse of something pale and shiny, just like... ice.

Gee, thanks. What a good friend I have.

* * *

I was in a grey space... floating?

Wait a moment... This isn't what the Nether looks like!

"Oh. You're back."

The red-eyed girl stood a few feet away, peering at me with curious crimson eyes.

"I... Who are you?" I croaked out the first thing that came to mind.

The girl tilted her head. "Just another traveller at a crossroads." She smiled as if it was an inside joke. It did nothing to answer my question, but I got a feeling that she was being vague on purpose.

It was then I remembered the last time I saw her. "Wait- what happened? The last time I saw you, you-"

Two small fingers were suddenly pinching my lips shut, preventing the rest of the sentence from escaping my mouth. The girl put a finger to her lips.

"Shh. I don't need to know anything." She said with a childish, innocent smile. "Best to let time flow as it will. Little distractions can have big consequences."

I nodded mutely, and the girl stepped back. 'What do you mean?" I asked as soon as my mouth was functional again.

"Let's just say... Time doesn't only flow one way for me. It's more like a pool. I can dive in and out of it whenever I want to."

I nodded like I understood.

"Where are we?" I asked instead.

"Where do you think we are?" The girl questioned.

"A grey void filled with absolutely nothing." I deadpanned.

The girl tilted her head again. "Oh? Is that what you see?"

Suddenly, the world-, no, _a_ world came rushing in around my ears. Strange tall building-like structures soared towards a clouded sky and metallic _things_ sped on grey roads. More people than I'd ever seen in one place bustled around in one crowded street.

"WHA-" I yelled, falling off the stool I was sitting on. I didn't even realise I was sitting on a stool. More importantly, I didn't even realise I was _sitting_ in the first place.

"We are in a dream." The girl looked amused. "Dreams look like how one wants them to look like. They just don't last long."

"Ugh." I picked myself up. "Why am I here?"

She had a blocky cube thing with many colours in her hands and was twisting it this way and that. And no, I had no idea where it came from. She turned her crimson eyes back to me. "Because you wanted to be here. You have a question for me, no?"

I shook my head. "I don't recall wanting to ask you a question... Wait, you asked me to pass on a message, though you were pretty vague about who to."

"I will ask you to pass on a message... I'll have to remember that. Don't tell me what the message says, but maybe I can help you with the identity of the receiver."

"You said 'the one who calls upon the Void'." I recited.

The girl put a hand under her chin. "No gender specifications?" When I shook my head, she continued: "That could apply to quite a few individuals. Which multiverse do you live in?"

"Uh..." What does she mean, multiverse? "The Overworld? Sandwiched between the Aether and the Nether?"

"Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry. I've probably been there, but in a different time when things had different names. What about your Creator Gods? You know, the pair of twin gods who made your worlds? They're usually the most worshipped, but one's always viewed as good and the other one as absolutely evil."

I racked my admittedly lacking brain. "Notch, definitely. And... um... Well, Jeb's the second oldest? Though he's not evil."

The girl shook her head. "In that case, it could probably apply to both Creator gods or any of the Primordial guardians. Sorry, I have no further information."

"Oh." I said disappointedly. Well, I hope I'm not supposed to pass Notch a message. I wouldn't survive the day.

The girl stood, and the sounds of the city started to fade. Along with the city itself.

'You're waking up. And I have to go."

The grey nothingness came back, and then it, too, started to fade away.

"Maybe we can meet again some other time... Steve." Her outline glowed softly, beginning to dissipate.

"Wait!" I yelled. "How do you know my name?!"

The little girl smiled angelically. "Why, you told me, of course. How else would I know it?"

Then I woke up to the sight of Hell.

* * *

Jeb had been feeling uneasy the whole day. Pyrien had left a while ago, saying that 'while certain people were content to laze around and allow their bodies to grow to grotesque proportions, he was going to get some exercise and save the world on the way if he could be bothered'. Naturally, the asshat left the Aether in a state of utter chaos, what with the anti-gravity cows, heat-seeking spitwads and animated _talking_ coffee machine that happened to have the personality of one grumpy Inventor and thus refused to dispense any coffee at all (Jeb felt he had gone too far with that one. No one, _no one_ , messes with the communal coffee machine. It was likely to bring the wrath of all forty-four gods in the Aether down on one's noggin).

Oh, and of course, he spiked Jeb's morning drink with vinegar again. A blind zombie could have seen that coming.

That irritating pea-sized pest...

The pyromanic annoyance...

The BRATFACE from HELL.

(Somewhere out there, Pyrien was sneezing. Hard)

Anyhow, Jeb was currently in his lab working on yet another contraption that was doubtlessly fated to bring misery to the cleaning crew.

A cold draft blew in. Jeb ignored that. Gods were weather-resistant (Mostly).

A door creaked creepily. Jeb ignored that. Gods were scare-proof (No they weren't).

Then the temperature dropped by around thirty degrees celsius and all the lights died simultaneously.

A malicious presence oozed into the lab. Ice formed on the walls.

Jeb froze. He turned slowly to face the door that was ajar, keeping his back firmly pressed against the wall.

A pair of white lights stared back at him coldly.

 _No... It can't be..._

Then the figure spoke...

 **"APRIL FOOLS."**

There was a _K-chk_ noise that sounded suspiciously like a camera-

Pyrien ran away laughing his ass off.

* * *

 _Random Thoughts_

 _Somewhere in between universes..._

"So your name has the word 'Brine' in it."

 _"..."_

"Oh, c'mon! Don't be salty!"

 _Please shut this deranged thing up. Please._

"Do you mind if I call you the Almighty Sovereign of Salt? ASS for short?"

 _"I do mind_."

"Ah! The silent one speaks! I have accomplished my task of ultimate annoyance!"

 _"..."_

"Oh, he's gone saline -t on me again."

 _This is horrible._

"You know, the first thing that comes into mind when I think of your name is a marine creature called a brine shrimp. I think I'll make that my nickname for you."

 _"..."_

"I'll take that as an OK. What's with that expression on your face? You look like you want to a-salt something."

Cue silent groan.

 _"Can you go away?"_

"Ah! The seagoing menace speaks again! He must be tidally fed up! Going off the deep end, are we?"

 _"I must be going cray-sea."_

Complete and utter silence.

"WHAAAAT! Alright, we are going to have a pun-off right now, mister salty. I see you have unlimited potential. You shall _bay_ -come a master of the pun with the right education. _Sailect_ your arsenal! _Combrine_ your best sentences! I predict some _choppy_ weather today!"

 _"Shut up. Please."_

"...You're not shrimping out on me, are you?"

 _AAAARRRGGGHH!_

(Silent screaming)

"...ahaha, I'm so punny."

* * *

 **Sorry for disappearing. I am now working on an actual book, so updates will be miserably slow...**

 **Excuse me while I vanish for another few months.**

 **-Nano**


	17. What the Nether is All This?

_Chapter Seventeen: What the Nether is All This?_

* * *

And so the conquering hero claims the high ground, facing his enemies with unimaginable bravery befitting that of a true warrior-

"Get off the table, you idiot."

Andras reluctantly did as he was told.

"Now go and groom the horse, there's a good boy."

The lackwit slogged out the door towards the stables with an air of torment hanging around him like a drunken thundercloud (Because only a drunk thundercloud would bother tormenting _him_ ).

The two were currently staying at an inn situated quite close to the Wall. When asked about the reason, Alex had replied "We're waiting for a pair of accident-prone numbskulls to go through Hell and back. It shouldn't take long."

Andras knew better than to demand a specification. He was likely to risk transformation into dog chow.

The wolf bounded up to the sullen boy and whined. Then, not receiving the attention he was after, he proceeded to bowl the boy over and give him a bath. And not with water.

"AAAIIEEEE! STOP! STOP!"

The screams travelled all the way to the Aether and bounced halfway back to the Overworld.

And so the conquering hero was defeated by a dog. The end.

* * *

A raven zipped through the air above Brightwater Watch. Flaring its wings, it landed neatly on a balcony and loudly demanded to be taken care of.

A harried guard rushed outside and caught the prancing bird just before it got bored and scarpered off somewhere. He quickly untied the letter from the raven's leg and scrambled downstairs to deliver the piece of paper to whoever was in charge.

A stern old woman sitting at a table took it from him and read it out loud.

 _INTRUDERS AT FLOODMARK STOP GIRL WITH CARROT COLOURED HAIR BEATING UP ALL SENTRIES WITH SAUCEPAN STOP SEND HELP IMMEDIATELY APPREHEND THE MADWOMAN SAVE OUR SOULS AAARRRGGHH NOTCHDAMMIT SHE'S HERE -_

* * *

Alex sneezed. Then made an expression that managed to convey the meaning of ' _impending doom_ '.The idiot froze and fell over in abject horror.

" _Someone_ is _talking about me_ behind _my back_." She muttered icily into her bowl of stew.

The lackwit inched out the door inconspicuously and closed it behind him. If the sky was going to suddenly rain fire, then it was going to rain on the people _inside_ of the inn. Not him.

And the conquering hero outwits doom itself! Ahahaha-

 _THUD._

A saucepan buried itself in the ground at his feet.

"NO INAPPROPRIATE CACKLING!" Alex yelled from inside the building.

* * *

The message suddenly cut off ominously. The old woman dropped the piece of paper, looking so unimpressed that if someone tried to measure her levels of impressed-ness with a meter, the bottom end would probably explode.

All other human beings in the room backed away. Even the fire seemed to shrink in on itself.

"Where's Darya?" She demanded.

"The Captain, she, uh, left this morning to, er... take care of a band of - um, robbers down th-the road..." The guard fled as soon as he finished his sentence. Probably to get a change of pants.

Marge frowned. That was unfortunate. It looked like she would have to go out herself.

"I'm too old for this." She muttered.

Everyone else in the building were simultaneously hit by the same train of thought: _She's only old when it suits her_.

Though to speak one's opinion out loud in these circumstances was likely to get one a funeral within the week.

* * *

The band of robbers had been dealt with quickly, and for the most part, effectively.

That is, until one temerarious individual had the tenacity to complain about his fate.

"Fif'een yeers robbin' Brigh'water Bay an' now this, this female _beansprout_ -"

The world suddenly became very, very still.

"Excuse me mister..."

The man was totally oblivious to the rage-monster standing over him with a club.

"... But I think I just heard the word _beansprout_."

"Yeh. So what?!"

And with that, the unfortunate robber sealed his fate.

"OH, SO I AM A SMALL, INSIGNIFICANT SPECK NOW, AM I?! CAN'T EVEN SEE ME CLEARLY IN THE NOONDAY LIGHT BECAUSE I'M SO BLOODY SMALL, YOU SAY?! 'COS I'M SUCH A TINY PEEWEE AN ANT CAN'T PICK ME UP WITH THE HELP OF A MAGNIFYING GLASS! JUVENILE, CHILDISH, YOU CALL ME?! I'LL SHOW YOU JUST HOW SMALL YOU CAN BE AFTER I CUT ALL YOUR LIMBS OFF!"

The other Watchmen (And women) plugged their ears in sync. They've had plenty of practice before.

A female Watch member nervously inched up to the screaming Captain and tapped her on the shoulder.

She got a faceful of verbal vengeance as a reward.

"Cap! Marge - sent - us - message - want - you - back - at - Brightwater - Hold!" The unimaginably brave woman shouted over gales of fury.

A small lump formed on the cobblestone road and went unnoticed by all but a small cricket that was dislodged from a leaf. The cricket was understandably quite peeved, but its tiny cricket-ish cuss words thankfully went unheeded due to its small size.

The storm of rage died down. The girl Captain gave the now terrified man one last slap and stomped off to her horse.

"Get 'em sorry donkey asses back t' the 'old." She ordered, still scowling. "I'm gonna ride on a'ead."

The horse had one of its eyes fixed on the growing lump and stubbornly refused to budge.

"What?" Daria snapped, as the horse suddenly reared up and began a serious of movements that suspiciously resembled the can-can.

-And that was the only warning they got before the cobblestone road exploded with a vengeance.

The Captain's reflexes took over on their own accord, and before she was fully aware of what the Nether was going on, she was springing backwards while swiping wildly with her sword at the creature situated at the spot she was standing on a moment earlier.

The stone golem creaked ponderously as little pieces of stone were chipped off its sides. Then it raised a massive fist and swung it.

The little Captain darted underneath the crude hammer, sword poised to slice into the creature's left eye socket-

"Get back, Cap'n!" Someone shouted.

\- And Daria used the creature's side to propel herself away with a sudden kick, rolling to a stop some distance away-

 _KA-BOOM!_

Several blocks of sneakily placed trinitrotoluene, otherwisely called TNT, ignited simultaneously.

When the dust cleared, there was a very large hole in the middle of the road and no suspicious alien creatures.

Someone cleared their throat nervously. "What the Nether was that?"

The Captain got shakily to her feet and violently slammed her sword back into her Inventory in an effort to hide the depth of her unease.

"Stone golem." She muttered under her breath. "Some ol' folktale in me village... summat 'bout a war, I think."

She shook her head suddenly and turned to glare at her soldiers. "Well, yer dinguses? What' yer waitin' around fer? We ain't got all day!"

* * *

I know I'm about to say something obvious. Really obvious. In fact, it's so obvious that I have to warn you before I say it.

Okay, here it comes: The Nether is freaking _hot_.

You can put that pitchfork away now.

I groaned unenthusiastically and rolled around in misery.

I smelt something burnt. Then I realised that the burning smell was, in fact, coming off my head, which was unfortunately positioned four inches away from a sea of lava.

Not knowing what to do in such circumstances, I went back to default settings.

That is to say, I sat up and screamed very, very loudly.

And was very surprised to be rewarded with an answering scream.

I stared at the smoggy, red haze hanging over everything. Then I stared upwards. And when I found more empty air, I looked up further.

 _Uh-oh..._

The giant white squid-thing looked back at me and promptly decided that I would look better with a little more crisping.

I flopped away from the first fireball, got up, and fell over my own feet just in time for the second one to sail over my head. Then I proceeded to crawl away as fast as possible and when I felt my brain had properly sorted itself out, I hopped awkwardly to my feet and ran like I had a pyromanic devil squid on my tail, which was admittedly all true minus the tail.

 _THWICK._

I glanced back and stopped mid-scream, producing a sound that kinda went ' _AAA_ AAAaaagh...aah?'.

The squid fell out of the air and exploded into a puff of white smoke.

The scythe spun back into its owner's hand.

"That," said Horus, whom I noticed had one finger in an ear. "Was _very_... audible. I suspect I should not worry about you getting lost in the future."

He walked over to the place the Ghast made contact with the ground and picked up something small and white.

Then he threw it into the lava.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "What did you do that for? An alchemist could have saved someone's life with it!"

"When I die," he said with no expression at all, derailing completely from my question. "I would like to be cremated."

I stared. And when I was done staring, I stared some more. I got the faint impression that he had a few Moos loose in the top paddock.

"Alright." I said finally, when the silence had once again gotten thick enough to crust. "So we're in the Nether. What now?"

He shrugged eloquently. "Don't hit the Pigmen and don't try to go to sleep. Don't pick a fight with the Wither Skeletons and don't touch their Nether Wart, they're prickly about it. Also, don't ever ask a Blaze if they want a drink because it's offensive and they'll take it as an invitation to crisp you-"

"I don't think a lesson in Mob etiquette is important right now-" I paused. "-Incidentally, how do you know these things?"

He shrugged again.

I gave up. I was now the world champion at giving up. If there was ever a competition of Who Can Give Up First, I'd come- no, wait, I'd have given up.

"So where would we get this dragon scale?"

He tilted his head curiously. "You will find out when we get there. The risk of being overheard here is too high."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh so it's a _secret_ now, is it? Gods help me, but I can't help but notice how you seem to want to drown me in them."

"It is not a secret," he said seriously. "because it is known to more than one person. And I would like to keep that particular number as low as I am able. Now, if you will excuse me, I must arrange our transport."

"Wait a sec - Transport?! What transport?! We're in the _Nether_!" I envisioned a platform of human bones carried on the backs of pigmen and quickly un-envisioned it.

A wailing song impacted on my eardrums and spun around, weapon in grip-

"That transport." Horus appeared soundlessly next to my shoulder and pointed in the opposite way. I turned around awkwardly.

Oh, _ye gods_. The Fates _really_ wanted to pancake me.

Not one, not two, but _four_ ginormous white devil-squids floated not ten meters away with clear, viscous fluid dripping from their closed eyelids.

"They will not attempt to eat you." Horus promised as he noted my state of panic. "The first one was rogue. They do not tolerate that kind of behaviour. And do put that shovel away. You do not want to make a bad impression. They have long memories."

* * *

Aurorion and Pyrien strolled along in the Aether. Seeing as Pyrien only recently returned to the world of the living, he had to do double time on being an annoying pest to catch up for what he missed. Aurorion had recently barely just managed to get him to take a break from 'persuading' the Aether Labs to blow up (Jeb was almost weeping tears of gratitude. You wouldn't be able to tell, but he was).

Suddenly, Aurorion halted mid-step. Pyrien raised an eyebrow.

"What is the matter, brother dear?"

"I can smell ozone." Aurorion said in a tone reeking of impending doom.

Pyrien sniffed the air. "Yes, that does appear to be the case. Is the smell bothering you?" An evil grin appeared on his face. "I can cover it up, if you like." He offered innocently, eyeing up several flammable objects in the area.

"No, you don't understand." A look of dread came over Aurorion. "I can smell ozone."

The air temperature dropped by about thirty degrees celsius.

Understanding dawned upon the troublemaking fire god. "That's not you, is it?"

Aurorion's face screamed 'no'.

"HIDE!" He suddenly yelled, grabbing his brother and throwing him into a bush, and then diving in after him.

"Vhat wash-" Pyrien mumbled through a mouthful of leaves before Aurorion clamped his hand over his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Pyrien proceeded to peek out of the bush.

CRACK.

A whip of silver electricity snapped a bit too close to his face, and the fire god recoiled back into the foliage.

Ah.

Herobrine walked past at normal human pace, hands in his pockets and looking deceptively calm. Except for the lightning crackling all over his surroundings.

Aurorion went about three hundred shades paler. Pyrien decided it would be a good idea to put a hold on breathing for the moment.

It was until imminent doom moved well out of earshot before Pyrien dared to start breathing again.

"I think he might have been annoyed just then." Pyrien whispered, prodding his brother in the ribs. Though with Herobrine it was hard to tell, as he only seemed to have one facial expression.

"You reckon?" Aurorion snapped, disentangling himself from the bush. "He and Notch seem to be on slightly unfriendly terms at the moment. You can see stuff just disintegrating in the throne room fairly often nowadays."

Pyrien shrugged. "Family spats happen. Eh, Rory, you never told me what happened to your spear."

Aurorion suddenly managed to bleach to such a degree that snowstorms would weep for shame.

"...don't ever ask again, you hear? _Never_."

Pyrien knew the signs of a PTSD (Painful Traumatic Shock Discourse) attack when he saw it, and decided not to argue. Aurorion will probably be fine once he's safely drunk.

* * *

 **Hello again from the flip side.**

 **As I have stated last chapter, I now aspire to become a published author, so updates will be far less frequent.**

 **For the people who asked, it's not finished yet, and probably won't be for quite a long time. Though I've recently acquired this thing called a blogspot; if you're curious, it's at crimsonreynard dot blogspot dot com (I did _not_ realise there was a filter preventing me from using actual dots. Whoopadoo. My bad)**

 **(Thank you for pointing it out, .dawnstar)**

 **So... yeah. With luck, the next time you see me will be at the last page of a published book.**

 **-Nano**


	18. Screw the Nether (Part One)

**Chapter Eighteen : Screw the Nether (Part One)**

* * *

The barman looked at the kid. Then he looked at the gold sitting in the palm of his hand. Then back at the kid.

He stowed the nuggets in his pocket without so much as a second thought.

Meanwhile, Pyrien was in the midst of experiencing the mortal joy known as 'intoxication'. He waved a hand in the general direction of the shelf of spirits and said : "That one." And proceeded to down a kegful of something pink and sparkly with the alcoholic punch of a seven hundred pound gorilla on a speeding minecart. Pyrien had never experienced drunkeness before, and was always a bit confused as to why his brother seemed to prefer that particular state of mind over something more sensible, such as sobriety. Then again, it was quite possible Aurorion had never heard of the concept.

The barman looked in the direction of the wave. "Which one, sir?"

It was not the usual way a small boy was treated in a bar. Usually, the small boys who wandered into bars quickly found themselves thrown into the garbage dump situated at the back with a general air of disdain, but whoever had _that_ much gold couldn't possibly be a small boy, could he? Just a rather, ehem, _youthful_ gentleman. Yes, a _gentleman_.

Gold tended to do wonders to the eyesight.

Pyrien flapped a hand. "All of them."

The barman nodded as if this was completely normal. Then again, the bar had experienced some pretty interesting Saturday nights, so a minor god may not seem _that_ out of the ordinary. "A sample of each, sir? How much would the honoured sir require? Shot glasses, I expect?"

Pyrien paused in the act of reaching for someone else's tankard and looked at the barman like he was the single dullest idiot mankind had the audacity to produce. "All - of - them." He said slowly in a manner one usually applied when speaking to kindergarteners or dogs.

The current owner of the tankard had the grace of mind to pick up his drink while the boy was distracted and inconspicuously move to the other side of the room. He wasn't sure why, as he was one of those people who can be found late at night in a bar opening bottles with his teeth, or with someone else's teeth if it was a really good day. But something about the small boy reached out and casually flipped a rusty, disused lever inside him marked 'Apprehension', which happened to be situated within breathing distance to the clockwork circuit known as 'Primal Terror'.

 _That_ gave the barman some pause. Though not for long, as the telltale sparkle of gold once again 'improved' his eyesight.

He began to bring down the dusty bottles one by one.

"Do you know," Pyrien began conversationally as he casually snapped off the top of the first bottle. "That this isn't as easy as it looks? This intoxication, it's very hard to get the hang of. I wonder how Rory does it all the time."

The barman nodded cautiously. Pyrien looked at the bottle in his hand and proceeded to to quaff it, drowning a few rats passing by behind his chair. He dropped the empty bottle and reached for another.

The barman passed it over silently. There was a _pop_ of displaced air and the top of the bottle wasn't there any more.

A pile of broken glass later, Pyrien stood up and sighed. "This is no good. I just can'- Oh."

He swayed a little.

And then, without further warning, the boy transitioned from vertical to horizontal in a sudden clatter of falling chair.

A loud groan rose from the floor and languidly pushed its way up like a geriatric who had mislaid his cane. "Yesh." The voice mumbled after a pause. "I shink I go' it now."

The barman peered cautiously over the edge of the counter. Pyrien blinked up at him blearily. "You know." He began woozily. "I don't. Be like, this. Have, to."

"Of course." The barman soothed as he frantically scrabbled around in a cupboard. An audible sigh of relief was heard as his fingers closed around the thick laminated cover of a book. It was the kind of book librarians took to war. There were scars all over the covers, complimented by the slight colouring caused by liberal amounts of spilt alcohol and a sort of questionable brown substance one sometimes get in a low-budget torture chamber which can't afford its own cleaners. The book had outlived quite a few of its owners, and was likely to outlive quite a few more.

It was titled _Barkeeping 1001_.

Pyrien rolled around on the floor until he remembered that human beings were supposed to stand upright, which then led to a series of embarrassing attempts to do so. The end result, after an eternity of falling chairs, was a slightly confused boy buried in the middle of a pile of furniture.

"'Sh no' eashy." He mumbled. "Shomeone, me, tell, sky where, is."

The barman flipped through page after page at a speed most athletes would kill to possess, mumbling to himself as he did so. He flashed through chapters on _how to deal with armed dwarves so high on elf wine_ _you can bounce radio waves off them_ and barrelled through _surviving rampage of inebriated Giant Zombies,_ briefly pausing on _persuading underage Crafters to put down the damn vodka_ , and flipping at speed over the chapter of _OhshitohshitHerobrine_ , which consisted of one blank page and a strong aura of hostility.

 _Clink._

All heads possessing of ears within hearing range turned with a synchronisation that would have reduced an orchestra conductor to a blubbering mess of lacrimal fluid. And as one, they turned there eyes upon the piece of gold that had escaped from the inebriated boy's pocket. Minus the old man in the corner who had the hearing abilities of a bat who's been dead for a fortnight, of course.

Most of them hurriedly lost interest as a group of men who looked like they hadn't been born, but chiselled out of a granite cliff and radiating the same amount of fatality pushed up front and bunched together, possibly with the intent to do what is known as a 'group huddle' but looked more like a quarry of monoliths looking for an excuse to fall and smear some unfortunate passerby into the ground.

They said : He's probably got more in his pockets.

Pyrien said : Whee.

They said : He's a kid. He doesn't need all that money.

Pyrien said : Ooh thash' a pretty flamingo.

They said : It'd be a shame if anything happened to all that money.

(What they meant was : It'd be a shame if anything that wasn't us happened to that money."

Pyrien said nothing. He was preoccupied with attempting to eat the seat of a chair. And having a shocking amount of success, on the account of having the teeth of a hippopotamus and the determination of an extremely inebriated person.

They said : We'll take better care of the money.

The monoliths - ahem, men, having reached a decision, stood up and menaced their way toward the pile of chairs.

Then they did something that was very unwise.

They grabbed Pyrien by the ankles and dragged him out backwards.

Now, in order to survive the obstacle course that was known as the universe, all species had certain instincts built into them to help them do so. For example, when cornered, the bull will charge, the cat will maul, and the politician will bullshit. For your average god, there is nothing more life-threatening than being caught unawares and dragged backwards into the Void by the ankle by some Creational screw-up tossed there by the Primordials when the world was first formed. As such, they have developed a reaction to contact bodily contact without notification to the other senses.

What they didn't have the time to say was : Oh, bugger.

Half a minute later Pyrien strolled peacefully out of the bar, which was somehow missing one of the walls and most of the roof.

He never did discover the reason behind the pieces of seat leather stuck between his teeth.

* * *

I knew I never got seasick. I also knew I never got cartsick. I was very proud of being able to disprove that particular myth (You know, where people say you can be immune to seasickness or immune to carsickness, but never both).

To my ultimate downfall, I never really considered the possibility I could get Ghast-sick.

Apparently it was not good etiquette to vomit on someone who'd just offered you a free ride (Horus kept referring to them as people, gods know why. No one I knew ever turned out to be a giant floating devil-squid), so I had to bear with the nausea and the urge to simply roll off the side and put an end to it all, which was becoming more and more enticing by the minute.

If anyone saw me right now, they would have also noticed the thick fog of misery exuding from my orifices. When they said the Nether was the afterlife's version of an eternal maths class, they weren't kidding around.

And on top of that, the Ghasts insisted on singing with a sound that would shame an entire orchestra composed of nails screeching down blackboards. No, wait, I tell a lie. The blackboards would run off screaming for mercy.

I groaned some more. Horus continued to look bored. It was the only expression he had.

Somewhere along the way, we passed close enough to a ceiling for the glowstone blocks to shatter from the homicidal noise. I ended up with a coating of dust to make a beacon green with envy. I couldn't bring myself to blame the glowstone. As far as noises went, this one didn't just leave the ears sore but contrived to hit them with horseshoes, with horses still attached to them. The damn pieces of glow-glass got off lucky, the devils.

Great. I am now jealous of a piece of glowing rock. Fabulous.

The lava below beckoned like a friendly old lady with a plateful of cookies. One that probably had a chainsaw hidden behind her back, if she deserved to be compared to the murderous temporarily-liquid.

I curled up into a pathetic ball of misery.

Sometime later, a finger tapped me on the shoulder.

I refused to respond. Then, I noticed a brief lull in the horrible Ghast-screeches. The noise had suddenly gone from bone-shatteringly high to a surprisingly dulcet melody.

I was too busy drinking up the bliss of the ceasefire to notice the second round of tapping, which, now that I think back to it, contained an edge of irritation.

Without further warning, I was suddenly pulled off the Ghast's back and dumped unceremoniously on some kind of brick floor.

Unsure of what to do, one half of me suggested ' _yelp_ ' and the other half surfaced from a puddle of self-pity just long enough to gurgle ' _vomit_ '.

I compromised and did both.

An exasperated sigh issued from somewhere above me. It was a sound that seemed to suggest its maker was currently beginning a journey down the end of his tether and was about to slip off it altogether, but whose pride forbade him to be seen strangling someone in public, which was incidentally the only thing between me and an untimely demise.

 _"Amusing. I did not know humans were capable of ejecting this much fluid from their bodies and not cease to function. Though mind you - I also did not know they were capable of producing such a_ smell _. It is a_ most _undignified stench. I would be glad to smell the back of it_." A voice like that of a rockslide mused conversationally. No, wait. _Three_ rockslides. The voices melted together in the middle of the sentences, like squabbling siblings who'd just noticed their parents walking into the room.

"The feeling is somewhat mutual." A familiar voice said flatly. "Incidentally, it is called Steve, as far as I am able to discern."

Something in the sentence sent alarm bells clanging inside my head. Without fully informing my head of what was going on, my body automatically sprang me to my feet.

My vision cleared. Then I wished it didn't.

I felt the metaphorical heel of the universe descending upon me. At speed.

Horus grabbed me by the collar and hauled me back upright. "As I mentioned before, this human is called Steve."

I was too busy panicking to object to the degrading tone he was using. In front of me floated a grey monstrosity I had only ever seen in books I went out of my way to avoid.

The Wither smiled with all three of its faces. There was a lot of teeth involved.

" _Ah. You humans would now claim that it is a pleasure to meet the other, no? I will skip that part, if you can find it in yourself to excuse me. I dislike telling untruths. I think, judging by the expression on your face, you already know me. But since it is the human custom to say this on the first meeting..."_

 _"Hello, Steve. I am the Wither. I do not yet know whether it is a pleasure to meet you._ "

* * *

 **Lo,** **I am terrible at writing in First Person POV.**

 **Verily, I cannot believeth how long 't tooketh me to realize that .**

 **Ah well. It's too late. I shall have to persevere.**

 **If I get the time, I'll try to rewrite the first few chapters. Just looking at them makes me want to sink peacefully down a Blue Hole.**

 **Anyway, I know it's a short chapter, but it's the best I can do with the time I have at the moment.**

 **-Nano**


	19. Screw the Nether (Part Two)

**Chapter Nineteen : Screw the Nether (Part Two)**

 **(With bonus of homicidal magicians - more than usual, anyway)**

* * *

The glorious city of Arcopolis soared towards the clouds, towers of gold reaching up to the Aether like the fingers of a dying angel. Down below, street magicians, hedge wizards, voodooists and all kinds of inferior practitioners of the arcane plied their trade, filling the air with multicoloured fog and random snaps of light. No respectable sorcerer would be found anywhere on ground level. It tended to be a tad difficult to sneer down at your inferiors when they were taller than you.

No, the _real_ magicians were only found in the topmost towers, and the only time they ever came down was in a coffin, or off a balcony, where another magician could sometimes be found suspiciously bemoaning the tragic fate that befell his colleague, oh dearie dearie me, and such a bright future he had before him, what kind of malevolent god should wish such an unfortunate accident upon that man of absolute admirability, and what a fellow he was, too, etc. By the laws of nature, magicians were solitary creatures, and although the plural for 'sorcerer' had been debated by many, most experts agree on Disagreement.

In the center of the city, one such tower pierced into the sky with a vengeance, glaring into the Aether with a positively murderous intent, threatening to impale it like a hog on a spear. The Gods, of course, did not take kindly to such declarations, but in an effort to appear uncaringly contemptuous, had refrained from doing overly unfortunate things to it and its inhabitants. Sure, occasionally people discover pairs of boots with smoke issuing from it with the owner pointedly missing, but the gold spire was mostly untouched - minus the assortment of pies a certain firegod with an unfortunate sense of humour had contrived to glue onto the pointy bit, which must have fossilized by now.

In the highest possible room of the said tower, an ancient wheelchair-bound sorcerer was pushed to a gilded chair, and with as much respect as was possibly, tipped onto it. The throne faced a semicircle of extravagant swivel chairs, all of which had their backs turned.

"Finally." Sighed an impatient voice from a silver chair wreathed in tendrils of shadow. "Now we may start."

The old sorcerer blinked. "Start what?" he gurgled happily. "Dinner? 'S it dinnertime already?"

Ignoring the burbling old man, a senior paged stepped out from behind the wheelchair and announced : "Let the session begin!"

Immediately, all the chairs swivelled around to face the throne. On cue, all the seated magicians started to speak at once.

"About dinner-"

"We should-"

"-Buggrit, bugger 'em, I say-"

"-MURDER 'EM ALL-"

"- fossilized pies-"

Soon the magicians were up again and hurling thunderbolts, fireballs, teacups, each other etc. across the room in an effort to make the others shut up and remain standing long enough to make themselves heard.

"- _Silence!_ " A voice screamed over the top of them all, accompanied by an explosion of runefire in the midst of the ongoing battle, sending other spells skittering off to the side in the following shockwave. An unfortunate magician suddenly found themselves squinting out of the eyes of a toad in the ensuing chaos.

A man standing in front of a chair etched with millions of tiny runes canceled out his runecircle with a few dextrous finger flicks. "Now," he said pleasantly, like how a crocodile smiles pleasantly just before it eats something. "Does anyone else want to make a contribution? Yes? No? Speak up. What about you, Earthlord?"

"No, Runemaster." A chubby little man said meekly from a chair that seemed to be a miniature continent, complete with mountains and rivers.

The Runemaster smiled and leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrests. The other magicians followed the movement nervously, ready to bolt at the slightest signal. "You all know why we are gathered here today."

Several magicians nodded calmly, despite the fact that they had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. The less wise sat around and looked confused, though thankfully nobody spoke up.

"Certain resources have informed me-" _tap, tap,_ "That the Rogue is once more on the map." He pronounced 'Rogue' in such a way that the capital 'R' made itself obvious, despite not being visible.

A ripple of murmuring went around the semicircle. Ah, yes. The _Rogue_. Now they were back on familiar ground. Everyone knew the Rogue, just like how every child knew the Bogeymen. In fact, the Rogue was held in such a regard that bogeymen children probably had nightmares about him being under their beds. There were things in the world whose mere appearance can send even zombies fleeing for their lives; the Rogue's job was to stand in their paths and send them back the other way.

"Yes." Rumbled a heavy set man in a chair made out of corrugated iron, with strands of metal in the shapes of vines twirling about animatedly in an absentminded manner. "I have heard also."

"Herd. Of cows. A herd of cows!" The old sorcerer giggled from his position on the throne. Again, no one paid him much attention.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

A thick atmosphere settled over the gathering. No one dared speak. Then:

"I would assume you have already set the... tools in their place?" A melodic voice came from under a hood with moving flame patterns on it. The speaker was seated in a chair without a definite shape; the frozen flame never quite stilled.

The Runemaster sighed. "Please refrain from referring to them as tools, Fire... Lord." An uncomfortable pause presented itself. By tradition, no women were allowed on the Council, but Tradition had since found itself savagely beaten and burnt into an unknown corner, where it was likely to stay. "It sounds so... unsophisticated."

The Firelord shrugged, a graceful movement of slender shoulders. "I prefer to speak of things as they are. Flattering words are a pointless wagging of the tongue."

 _Tap, tap._

The Runemaster's smile slimmed. His fingers paused long enough to twitch into the rough outline of a shape. The nearby magicians leaned away and tracked this movement with apprehension. The croaking of the unfortunate toad was barely audible above the din of silence.

"The... tools are indeed in place." The Runemaster spoke calmly. His fingers resumed their absentminded tapping, and the rest of the magicians relaxed enough to realise they hadn't been breathing for the past half a minute, which then led to some embarrassing spluttering all around.

"I see you are a man of action." The Firelord's voice contained a tint of what might have been called amusement, if the way a skull grins could be called amusement. "At least, in this matter. Pardon me for my ignorance, but I do not see how this 'Rogue' would affect us. He has refrained from so much as prodding our corner of the map for years. If he wished to take action against us, why has he not done so before?"

 _Tap-_

The Runemaster stood suddenly, slamming his arms into the armrests on his chair violently as he did so. His face had turned white with incandescent fury.

"Your _ignorance_ , for the lack of a better word, may-" Here he struggled with his tongue, which wanted to say one thing and probably would have succeeded if not for the timely prevention by his more cautious mind. "- may cause... _complications_ if allowed to go on as it is. This Rogue is not someone to be trifled with. I doubt he is entirely of the human race, even if he started out as such. No human has the _capacity_ for such cruelty. No human could slaughter so many and still act so calm. The monster didn't even _laugh_! _He_ -"

The sharp tap of a cane neatly snipped off the rest of his sentence. The Runemaster, face now redder than an inflamed pimple, turned slowly to face the owner of the cane.

"Please remember that you stand amongst equals, Runemaster." The occupier of the silver chair wreathed in wandering tendrils of shadow sat back and re-crossed his legs, his ragged black Necromancer's cloak rustling ominously as he did so, as it was designed to do. "Even if you are the only one standing." The silver skull brooch holding his cloak together seemed to leer at everyone who saw it. It was as much a part of a Necromancer's costume as the black clothes and general air of unease that followed behind them like a wronged dog.

The Runemaster quickly regained his composure and sat back down. He inclined his head at the small hooded figure. "I apologise for my, ah, _violent_ behaviour, Necromatrix. Do not worry, it shall not happen again." He said slowly, calmly, as if addressing an easily startled person, or a young child.

"See to it that it does not." The Necromatrix replied coolly.

"Excuse me." A man in a silver chair almost identical to the Necromatrix's spoke, eyeing the said figure with profound distaste. "If the issue has been resolved, I would assume the meeting is over, no? Unless someone has something else to add?"

The question was met with a definite silence. Except for the desperate croaking of the toad, of course. But no one paid it much mind. The Principal of the Arcopolis Sorcerous Academy didn't have much to say that was worth hearing, even in human form.

"It seems that you are correct in your assumption, Lord Nyx." The Runemaster stood again. "Well?" He snapped at the elderly page standing behind the Speaker's gilded chair. "Adjourn the meeting, man."

The page blinked at him mulishly for a few seconds and then said in a voice of obvious ill-temper. "Oh, very well, your lordship." He made certain that the lowercase 'l' on 'lordship' was audible. "Meeting _adjourned_."

The magicians filed out quickly, leaving an afterimage of relief behind them. Only the Necromatrix remained seated, as if he simply couldn't be bothered to leave.

After everyone else had left, the Necromatrix beckoned to the page with the lazy flick of a finger. The page glanced at the Speaker to make sure he wasn't trying to crawl out of his throne or attempting to eat it, and shuffled over to the silver chair.

"Yes, your-"

He froze abruptly in the middle of his sentence. His eyes went blank and his arms drooped lifelessly to his sides.

"Conceited fool." The sharp, clear voice came from the gilded throne. The Speaker folded his hands in lap and leaned back against the gilded surface, all trace of mindlessness disappearing as if wiped away by a particularly skillful cleaner. "He does all sorts of things when he thinks nobody's around. Except me, of course." Amusement crept into his heavily lined face. "Oh, but I hardly count, do I?" He adopted a blank-eyed, absentmindedly grinning face for a second. "What did you do to him, Necromatrix?"

"Jolted his ghost a bit." The Necromatrix answered. "He will go back to normal in half an hour or so."

"Good, good." The old sorcerer smiled. "Pardon an old man's paranoia - but I would feel more at ease if I could see your face. Old suspicions die hard, I'm afraid."

The figure silently pulled back his hood. A pair of mismatched eyes blinked at the sudden light, one grey, the other a disconcerting purple slashed through by a cat-eye pupil, a result of a forebear's unfortunate affair with a demon. The pale face was surprisingly young, placing the Necromatrix's age at no more than eighteen and no less than fifteen. A scar ran from the right side of the top lip to the left side of the bottom lip.

He was, after all, the youngest Necromatrix in the history of sorcery, though quite frankly nobody expected him to last this long as one.

"Kind of you, my boy." The Speaker said in a tone of joviality that if peeled off, would reveal something cold enough to freeze a volcano mid-eruption. "Now, what was it we actually came to discuss?"

"Runemaster Zacheus." The boy said quietly. If anyone was eavesdropping on the conversation, the loud gasp of shock would doubtlessly have given them away. Using the actual name of a Council member was considered a crime punishable by decapitation, or worse, an eternity of amphibianhood.

"Ah yes. Him." The old sorcerer pronounced 'him' as if it was an object he found in the privy. "The fool thinks I don't know about the pot of mercury he put under my bed. Hmph. Youngsters these days. Back when I was young, we used honest poison. None of that slowly-pushing-them-off-the-edge-of-sanity business. Takes far too long. More risk of discovery."

"Yes." The Necromatrix said carefully.

"Never liked him. Pity. He looks like a bright young fellow. I don't suppose you are fond of the man, by any chance?"

"No. He takes every opportunity to treat me as a young child. He implies that the responsibility is too heavy for me."

"Ah. Good. Good." The old man leaned back and closed his eyes.

After a moment of silence, the Necromatrix inquired : "And the Rogue?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." The Speaker of Arcopolis snorted. "He's no trouble as long as we don't bother him, which is why we've largely pretended not to see him all these years. But the young Zacheus, hmm." The old sorcerer paused. "Our Runemaster seemed to hold some kind of grudge against him. They are both dangerous individuals, you see." The old man's eyes suddenly glinted ominously.

The Necromatrix caught the look and the train of thought almost instantaneously.

"You mean to let him have his way." He spoke quietly.

"Yes." The Speaker said pleasantly. "Two Ghasts with one bolt, as they say. As useful as our Zacheus is, I'm afraid he must make an exit soon. He has some unsafe notions. _Quite_ unsafe. And if we could catch our Rogue as well, then..."

"Eliminate the victor of the outcome and give the reason of death as battle injuries." The Necromatrix murmured. It made sense. The Arcopolis magicians had been doing similar things for centuries. Death and dishonesty lay at the foundations of the sorcerous hierarchy. A certain ability to bullshit and backstab was a requirement for being a sorcerer and surviving it.

The Speaker gave him a brief sharp look. "Yes. Although I must confess I would rather the victory went to the Rogue. It may be that we can make use of him."

The toad chose that moment to make itself heard.

"Ah, Principal." The old sorcerer's attention wandered over to the stuffed leather seat. "Do excuse my lack of manners in not addressing you before. I hope you find your current form comfortable? It rather suits you, in my opinion."

The toad croaked indignantly.

"Sneaky, my dear boy." The Speaker addressed the Necromatrix. "Using the aftershock of the runefire as a cover. Where did you get the spell?"

"A hedge wizard sold it to me for two crescents." The Necromatrix answered insouciantly.

The Speaker smiled. "Funny how much a life is worth. Two crescents, eh?"

The toad now croaked in alarm. It hopped off the chair and made a desperate dash for the doors-

A hand made out of solid _cold_ caught it mid-leap. The toad struggled frantically in vain, croaking until it ran out of air.

The ghost applied more force until the creature exploded like a red water balloon.

Bits of it squelched onto the floor unpleasantly.

"Get rid of it." The Necromatrix ordered coldly as he walked out of the room.

 _:Yes, master._ The ghost bowed stiffly.

The Speaker smiled in his golden throne.

* * *

I wondered what plural for 'Wither' was.

A Mob of Withers? A Threatening of Withers?

Right now, I was leaning towards a 'Murder' of Withers. It sounded more accurate. Our companion skeletons looked like they didn't bear any intention to invite us over for tea and fairycakes anytime soon.

I silently cringed inwards. Above our merry band, the Wither himself floated along peacefully, occasionally making remarks at Horus. They (Again, Horus insisted they were a 'they'. I don't even know how he knew that, but the Wither didn't seem to object, so he must have been right) seemed to be fascinated by me for some strange reason. It must have been one Nether of a reason, because only very strong drink ever made anyone fascinated in me, and only then as a target.

" _So how do objects stay in your stomach after you consume them?_ " The Wither suddenly addressed me curiously. _"Don't they just fall out the , ah, other hole?_ "

I twitched nervously, digging my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from drawing my sword out of instinct and sheer terror. "Um." I began eloquently. "I think it's because it needs to be digested first. Um." I added.

The Wither made an impatient noise. One of their smaller heads rotated around to give me the most unimpressed look recorded in the history of unimpressed looks. " _Yes, but what actually prevents it from falling through_?"

"Er, the will of Notch in His design of the human body?" I suggested nervously.

Horus made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. He pinched the bridge of his nose and a looked almost surprised for a second, though I'm sure it was only a trick of the light. His permanently bored look left no room for another expression on his face.

" _So you're saying your God's power is responsible for this phenomenon?_ " The Wither asked slowly. _"Herobrine, he must be very busy indeed, having to constantly prevent embarrassing mishaps from taking place at all times of the day._ "

Horus pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"Er, that's not what I meant... I mean, I don't, I don't really know much about um, about it." I scrambled over my own words in my haste to spit the sentence out before I could further embarrass myself.

The Wither drifted closer so they could look down at me. " _Hmm._ " They said, in no apparent context.

I leaned away instinctively, almost backing into one of the Wither skeletons escorting us to wherever. It clanked disagreeably and prodded me in the back with a stone sword, fortunately not hard enough to break skin.

I wrinkled my nose at it and glanced over to Horus.

To nobody's surprise, there was a no-go zone of one meter radius around him in the three block wide tunnel. The Wither skeletons nearby squeezed up against each other like a crowd of tourists around a lion pen with a two meter high fence that just witnessed the said lion clearing a three meter high rock with ease. Even the Wither respectably kept their distance.

The Wither must have noticed my expression. " _Ah. We try not to aggravate Him. The consequences are rather hard to clean up. We couldn't get the bone dust out of the brickwork after last time._ " One of the Wither's smaller heads tried to shrink back into their shoulder, teeth clattering in what could have been fear.

"Oh. Er, why?" I said intelligently.

A smaller head rotated around to stare at me, and proceeded to hiss animatedly. " _There was an incident in the Overworld concerning a certain amount of impudent Mobs and a castle ambush._ " The Wither answered, ignoring the recalcitrant head seemingly trying to pop off their shoulders and run very, very far away. _"He was slightly irritated, and a certain group of rash and rebellious individuals attempted to follow the example set by their Overworld cousins..."_

"Oh no." I said with sympathy. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.

" _'Oh no' is certainly correct._ " The Wither agreed dryly. _"We had to dig for a week to recover their remains, not to speak of the size of the crater. In our language, we call Him - "_ Here they made a series of clanks and hisses. " _\- It means 'Go-around-the-other-side-of-the-lava-lake'. Though sometimes it sounds a bit different, of course. We have fifty words for lava."_

"Okay." I nodded. "And a hundred words for 'kill them'?" I immediately covered my mouth and hoped I wasn't about to go-through-the-other-side-of-the-lava-lake.

The Wither gave me a strange look. " _How did you know? Is this the 'precognition' you humans speak of? How - Never mind. We have arrived."_

In front of us, mounted on a pedestal, was a frame made out of magma blocks, not unlike the frame of a Nether portal. The only difference being the magma blocks instead of the obsidian, and the empty air where the swirling purple light should be.

"What's that?" I asked.

Horus stepped up to the frame. "This, Steve," He said without turning around. "Is something that only three humans in the entire history of the universe has seen, one of them being you. And I'd like to keep that number the way it is, so if word about this threatens to get out, it may very well find itself without a throat to go through. You see, there is something that even _I_ have to protect."

* * *

 **I have mixed feelings about this...**

 **You see, the Arcopolis has actually made its way into my fantasy world map, so I don't know whether I should put it here, even though it was designed for this story in the first place.**

 **Ah well. It's not very important.**


	20. Screw the, er, Nether?

**Chapter Twenty : Screw the ... Nether?**

* * *

Sometimes gods liked to stroll around in mortal forms. No one knew why, except for the god in question, of course, and even then only vaguely. And no one was likely to question them about it, since the purpose of the said mortal form was not attracting undue attention, which may then lead to disastrous events befalling the said mortal form, possibly involving people whose prayers had gone ignored once too often suddenly desiring to repay a few debts, often with the involvement of sharp objects.

Gods don't often do this. The transition is not dissimilar to a human being suddenly achieving amphibianhood, which certainly did no wonders for the said human's mental health, what with the limited mental capacity and a sudden desire to catch insects with one's tongue. Not to mention the memory.

What memory?

Yes, exactly. Now imagine trying to cram twelve thousand years of picture-perfect data, complete with tiny details like the microbes living on dust motes and a six-hour mathematics lecture given by the most boring teacher on the continent, into a brain the size of a stunted eggplant.

 _Poof_ goes the microbes. _Poof_ goes the mathematics lecture (Thank heavens for small mercies). Room to be made for trivial things like survival instincts, emotions, morals, irresistible urges to stick one's fingers into electrical sockets for no apparent reason, the whole range of junk.

In short, in the process of learning how to be human, a god may suddenly find themselves forgetting how to be a god.

And that is where the trouble starts.

* * *

I think I may have just received a death threat. It left me with a kind of itchy feeling inside, like I wanted to be annoyed but was too unsettled to be.

So I defaulted to my base settings. "What?" I asked, in a state of bemusement.

" _We would prefer to keep it a secret._ " The Wither clarified. " _But needs as Herobrine drives, as they say. You need your dragon scale to complete a bargain, no?_ "

"What does this have to do with a dragon scale?"

The Wither glanced at Horus, who shrugged, which could have meant a whole range of things from _'go on'_ to _'let's murder him'_. Though I would like to assume the former is more likely.

" _Well-"_ The Wither began helplessly. " _It may be possible, just slightly, that a dragon scale may be procured by going through the portal?_ "

I crossed my arms. "So you're saying there's a fairy over on the other side waiting with a basket of free dragon scales." I deliberately chose a tone saturated with sarcasm and unleashed it upon the unsuspecting Wither.

Who brightened up like a Notchmas torch. " _Oh! Is this the thing you humans call 'sarcas-_ "

"No fairies." Horus deadpanned. "But there is always the possibility of a hungry demon. They don't get enough tourists nowadays."

I gulped.

 _"That,"_ The Wither utilised a tone so flat it must have just come out from under a steamroller. " _I can't believe my earholes, all six of them. I didn't think you were capable of humour beyond funny ways to decorate the scenery with body parts_."

"Um." I said accurately. "Are there hungry demons?"

" _Well, they're often not hungry for long, I can tell you that._ " The Wither replied dourly. " _I daresay it has something to do with all those teeth and claws_."

"And they're through that portal." I pointed at the frame.

"Yes." Horus answered unexpectedly. "And so is the dragon scale."

I put my hands on my hips. "Well, that settles it, gentlemen. If there's a dragon scale involved..."

The Wither nodded encouragingly.

"... Then please show me the nearest exit. I really don't want to deal with an angry dragon on top of all those demons." I finished, barely keeping the little whimper out of my voice.

Horus gave me a Look. It was a Look that made the Nether suddenly seem like a pool of yogurt in comparison. "Steve. You must go through the portal. You are in mortal peril."

"Why?"

"Because I will personally strangle you if you don't."

I nodded calmly. "Okay." I said. "You know what, I've actually changed my mind. I might actually enjoy being ripped to pieces-" I swallowed. " - mauled-" I gulped. "-and devoured. Not necessarily in that order, of course."

" _Atta boy!_ " The Wither announced cheerfully. I got the feeling they had never quite gotten the grasp of sarcasm. " _So I believe you humans say, anyhow._ "

"So how do we activate this thing?" I asked with an air of resignation. "Set fire to it the good old classic style? Explode it? Human sacrifices?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted the last line. I wouldn't be surprised if I was actually correct.

The Wither looked at me oddly. " _Human sacrifices?_ " I gulped. " _Good gods! How tasteless! Such things are_ quite _out of fashion nowadays."_

I breathed a sigh of relief. It almost ended up as a choke. What did they mean by out of fashion _nowadays_? High Aether, did that mean they _used_ to-

" _So,_ " The Wither addressed Horus, who was standing in such a way he almost blended in perfectly with the background. " _I am afraid you will have to do the honours. I cannot physically project my voice, alas, and the young Steve does not know the ritual._ "

Horus shrugged. "It cannot be avoided." He sighed, and walked up to the frame with the bearing of a man walking into an extremely political situation.

I prepared to look away. And so was caught quite unawares when the verbal cannon went off.

* * *

I unblocked my ears after a good ten minutes, and poked around just to make sure there wasn't anything unmentionably unsanitary lying around in there.

In front of us, the portal swirled with red flames. Horus put his hands in his pockets and retreated to another corner of the room, which was the most obvious sign of embarrassment I'd seen from him thus far.

"So the key to this thing..." I began in a tone of utter amazement. "... Is... is... Wow. I can't believe you _swore_ at it for ten minutes straight."

And that was what he did. Without pause, in what seemed like twenty-five different languages. I only recognised a few of the words, and they did _not_ sound kid-friendly. They sounded like they were verging on indefinitely removing my ears from existence.

The Wither cleared their throat. " _You must understand that when Herobrine created the Nether, he-"_ They coughed. " _-ah, had a bit of an off day. Involving a little brawl with most of the Aether which resulted in that whole business with being declared_ Persona Non Grata _in the Aether, well..."_

"So he hardcore-cursed at some magma blocks until they glowed." I marvelled. The gods never failed to surprise. It was one of their best traits, some of the other good traits being _graciously not causing the apocalypse_ and _poisoning coffee only with vinegar, nothing overly fatal_. "That is some next-level world building."

" _I was very alarmed that day._ " The Wither admitted. " _It was usually an extraordinary result if you could get two words out of him in the same day. I was afraid of, well... many things._ "

Horus cleared his throat. We both spun around guiltily, as we had forgotten he was in the room altogether.

"The regrettably inappropriate wording aside, may we proceed?" He inquired. I had the feeling that he really didn't want to extrapolate on the 'ritual' and that it would be an unfathomably stupid idea to ask him how he'd come by the knowledge of it.

"Yeah. Sure." I gestured at the roiling red mist. "I'll even let you go first."

He shook his head. "Ladies first."

The Wither made the kind of sound that you get when you cross-breed a death rattle and a choke. " _My word_." They sputtered. " _That is the second time in this day. Are you quite healthy, my friend?_ "

Horus waved a hand languidly. "Nothing I will not recover from in due time."

He turned to me, all sense of amiability evaporating like shower steam. "In. Now." He stabbed a finger at the portal in a way someone else might wield a dagger.

My brain told me it was a bad idea. My survival instincts, or whatever pathetic excuse of deteriorated mental wiring that passed for them in me, weighed the options and judged one to be slightly less fatal.

I walked into the portal.

* * *

... And opened my eyes to a grey void.

A black blur arced overhead and solidified into a shape. Curious red eyes blinked down on me, a finger placed thoughtfully over the lower lip.

"I think I've seen you sometime." The girl said curiously. "Can't seem to remember when. Have you met me yet?"

"Gah!" I said, when I was given an opening.

"Is a 'Gah' a measure of time in your universe?" The girl inquired, doing a slow loop in the weightless space.

"Er. No."

She pirouetted and spun so she was facing me, the tail of a long black coat trailing behind her. "Hmm." She said in no apparent context.

"They call me-." She suddenly said, as the same time as I asked : "Who are you?"

"Oh!" The young girl laughed. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget when I'm not entirely in the present. My people call me Time."

Different from before. She'd actually given me an answer this time.

"-But people who I've actually met usually use my name. Call me Az, by the way." She added. "For now. I still can't really decide on a name. It's ridiculous, only being able to have one name at a Time. It's like being let loose in an ice-cream store and being told I'm only allowed to pick one flavour." She sighed and shook her head sadly. "You humans."

There was a period of silence then, during which she had managed to float herself into an upside-down position.

"So what's yours?" The girl asked suddenly.

I started a little. "What?"

"Name, slowpoke. What's your name? I've told you mine, it's only polite to tell me yours."

"Er, it's Steve."

Az gave me a dry stare. "Your parents weren't very inventive in the naming department." She commented, turning loops in the vacuum like a kind of strange dolphin.

"Thanks." I replied, just as dryly. "I suppose I'll tell them that when I find out who they actually are."

The girl lifted an eyebrow, hands planted on her hips. "You too? The parents these days really are deteriorating. I believe I've met five people in the same situation in just the last hour parenting department seems to have bailed when it came to Gods. Ah, well. I guess it can't be helped. " She sighed, pinching the bridge of her small nose. "Grown-ups will do grown-up things."

"Just how old are you, exactly?" I asked out of curiosity.

"A hundred and forty-seven." She replied cheerfully. "Two hundred and seventy-eight. Ninety-six, five hundred and nine, and eleven."

 _...What?_

The girl-shaped being scratched her head sheepishly. "Honestly, the time thing is a little confusing in the age department. But I like to think of myself as a kid, 'cause grown-ups are confusing." She tilted her head and grinned in childish delight. "But you're the same, huh?"

"What?" That word was becoming my trademark phrase. I really need to replace it. With something like 'Pardon?' or 'Excuse me?' or something that just sounds more civilized.

"You like being young." She said simply. "You don't want to be seen as grown up. Something to do with all the responsibilities? You seem like someone who takes his responsibilities seriously. Maybe that's why you don't want more, 'cause you know you're gonna take 'em."

"I didn't know I signed up for a psychoanalysis session." I mumbled under my breath.

"Think that's why you act so clueless, like some oblivious kid?"

The awkwardness intensified on my part. "Um." I said. "Er, uh, erm..."

The girl suddenly laughed, pulling a hand through her long hair in an embarrassed fashion. "Sorry. I'm new to all this. All the microscopic details... I can't help myself. Sorry."

"It's, uh, okay, I guess."

She abruptly jerked up, tipping her head in a curious fashion. "Oh dear. Do excuse me. Something seems to be attempting to make a nuisance of itself." Something in her sudden change of tone reminded me of Horus. Images of unfortunate and painful happenings played on my mental theater, and I quickly consigned much of it to the cutting room floor.

A single wing sprouted from her back, flowing like semi solid shadows.

Ruby eyes glinted with a bloody luminescence.

"No offense meant, Steve. But I really must be off. A trivial annoyance is demanding to be seen to."

Shadow leaked into the edges of my vision, the girl-shape who called herself Az being the central point.

Then she suddenly smiled, and the shadows didn't look so menacing anymore. "I'll see you another Time, huh?"

Existence took a break, and I was left falling face-first into a red lake.

* * *

It took me some time to wake up enough to actually make an attempt at getting out of the water. Though at first I was pretty reluctant to do so, because the lake water was actually quite unnaturally warm.

Not to mention the water was red. I almost skimmed straight out of the water when I realised that.

"So you decided it was a good idea to chuck me into a lake. In an entirely different universe." I deadpanned once I climbed back up onto the small cliff where Horus sat waiting innocuously.

He shrugged. "You adamantly refused to wake up. I already tried slapping you and - what was it you people do - oh yes, blowing into your ear." He said matter-of-factly.

I surreptitiously inserted a finger into my ears and attempted to clean them out. "First off, slapping people and blowing into their ears are not the best methods of waking somebody, and ouch-" I winced at the sharp newly-discovered pain in my face. "Second, what's the deal with 'you people'? And third-" I rubbed my eyes and looked around just to make sure they weren't having me on.

" _W_ _here the Nether are we_?"

"Ah. That." There seemed to be an unsaid ' _whoops, my bad_ ' hanging in the air.

" _Don't you 'ah, that' me!_ " I yelped.

Horus held up a finger, successfully cutting any further protests from Yours Truly. "I was about to say, funny you should ask that."

He swept his arm out in a grandiose gesture, allowing me to take in the red sun, metallic gold skies, reflective black rock, and trees with softly glowing leaves seemingly made from molten gold.

"Welcome to the Nether surface, Steve. The _real_ Nether."


	21. Screw the Arcopolis I

**Chapter 21 : Screw the Arcopolis**

* * *

Ah, the universe. A wonderful whatchamacallit, whatever the Nether it is. One that insists on throwing curveballs at me from every corner, and seemed to take an absurd amount of enjoyment in doing so.

So many curveballs to the face. Thank you, universe. I shall think of you when I receive my medical bill for brain damage.

"What do you mean, the _real_ Nether?" I blurted, sitting on black dirt covered with grass the colour of marigolds, while the red sun hung overhead in a sky of permanent metallic gold.

Horus shrugged. "The Nether you know of is below us. It is merely the core of this world. This is the surface."

"But it's a known fact that the Nether is below the _Overworld_!"

"It is also a known fact that humans were supposed to be equipped with functional brain cells." He returned caustically. "Look how that turned out."

I bit my tongue and yelped, more in surprise than in pain. I resumed drying my hair in silence.

* * *

 _:I think, and therefore I am:_

 _:Cut the crap. You of all should know better.:_

 _:Then answer your own question. Who are you? Who are you really?:_

 _:I do not know. But does it matter?:_

 _:Why, yes. I should think so.:_

* * *

There goes another curveball. Smack between the eyes. The hospital staff will be getting quite irate at me now.

What happened? Well, I had decided to take another look at the strange book I found in the dungeon...

The blasted thing had contrived to apear twice the size it was before. It was now bound in red leather in lieu of the former black, and the title now read ' _A Guide To The Nether: Idiot's Edition_ '

I was torn between saving it to pawn off to a wizard and feeding it to the nearest available zombie. What has it come to, when even insentient constructions of paper and leather find ways to verbally hit me upside the head?

I eventually came to accept the fact I attracted weirdness like a creeper in a Notchmas tree attracts screams and delusional songmakers.

"I did not take you for the type of person who liked to study."

I jolted a little, the book flying out of my lap like a squirrel on a wild bid for freedom. "Will you _stop_ that?" I muttered through gritted teeth.

Horus sat back and tilted his head innocuously. "Stop what?"

I retrieved the errant structure of paper that was probably older than I was. "Sneaking up behind me. You almost gave me a heart attack. And anyway, it's not nice to disturb someone when they're reading."

The sorcerer sat back and crossed his legs. After a while, he dipped his head by the tiniest fraction. "Then I apologize."

I dropped the book again and had another almost-heart attack. _You? Apologising?_ I bit back a startled exclamation.

"Er, well... It's okay then, I suppose..." I trailed off uncertainly. There was no precedent for this. What am I supposed to do? Run away? Wait, that somehow doesn't seem like an appropriate response.

Which was a little confusing, because in my experience, running away solved _everything_.

"It is not such a long way." Horus had turned away by then. "If you walk fast." He started across the marigold grass plains, black coat flapping gently in the warm breeze.

"You- What?!" I dumped the mystery book back into my Inventory and bounded after him. "Hey! Stop being so cryptic! It's not nice!" I added as an afterthought.

He did not apologise this time. Which was one less heart attack for me to endure. Whew.

* * *

"Nether!"

Something shot past overhead with a buzzing sound, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. I patted my head frantically in case any unwanted flammables had strayed into my hair. "What was that thing?"

The reddish blur paused suddenly and resolved itself into the shape of a small horned lizard. It hovered in the air for a moment, insectoid wings blurring, and chittered at me in a wounded fashion. Then it poked my forehead lightly with the blunt side of a slim claw and darted away before I could react.

"Ow!" I said, more in reflex than any actual pain.

"Dragonsprite." Horus said offhandedly. "They don't like being called 'things'."

"It understands human speech?"

The dragonsprite was suddenly back again, chittering with positive disapproval. This time the poke had more force behind it.

"Ow."

"They don't like being called 'it' either." The sorcerer flashed me a look of what might be interpreted as amusement, if a shelf of ice could be interpreted as amusement. "That one is a female."

It- She hummed in satisfaction at the acknowledgement, looping through the air giddily and leaving showers of sparks in her wake.

"You can say dragonsprites are a distant cousin of dragons." Horus spoke blandly, but his eyes tracked the flight of the small sprite with something akin to interest. "They were based off the same template."

"Template?"

Horus looked away and shook his head. "Irrelevant."

The small dragon-lookalike uttered a soft bark, and settled on his shoulder, scales flashing all colours of the flame. Tiny sparks fell from it- her wings everytime they fluttered. They rolled off Horus' cloak harmlessly. He didn't seem to mind her presence.

Curiosity niggled at me to brush a finger against the winged lizard's scales, but caution warned me I'd probably catch fire. I settled for admiring it from afar.

We walked in silence after that. To my surprise, I discovered I didn't mind it as I used to. The silence, I mean. I no longer wanted to drown the world in questions or shake it upside-down for answers. Even though I did still have a lot of questions. Like : Why the bloody heck am I even here? What is ' _here',_ exactly? And the ever-present 'Where can I get food?'.

And whatever the book thing was. I guess it must be a sign of the weird overflow showing itself that I didn't scream and throw it into the lake. The _red_ lake, which was apparently situated _in the Nether_.

And then there was that, of course. Then there was that.

It didn't seem all that long before Horus suddenly called a halt on a grassy plain. Obsidian-coloured glass, I noted.

The sun was directly overhead in the golden sky. Trees swayed in the gentle breeze, glowstone leaves twinkling as they fluttered. The sorcerer sat down underneath a tree and leaned against the polished black wood. He gestured for me to come join him.

I edged over and sat down gingerly, patting the grass beforehand to check for any hidden nasties my laconic companion may have neglected to warn me about. When I failed to die, I plonked myself down in the grass with a deep, contented sigh. My leg was starting to complain. I'd almost forgotten I had an injury there.

The grass was surprisingly cool. I rolled around in it like an over-enthusiastic puppy. When I remembered I had company, I stole a glance over at the said company to discover him preoccupied with staring at a seemingly random spot in the ground some distance away.

Coast is clear. Proceed.

I rolled helter-skelter in the grass until I was dizzy to the point where I couldn't tell my face from my feet, whereupon I wobbled to my feet, and slogged over to the glowstone tree Horus was currently occupying. Bumping lightly into the trunk due to disorientation, I wheeled around, gave the ground a wobbly grin, and slid down into the dirt.

It felt nice to not be running away from something. I'd almost forgotten what not being rushed was like.

"Hey, dude." I turned to the sorcerer, expecting to be met with the usual cold blue glare.

Oh, gods. Another curveball.

I rubbed my eyes and mentally accused them of fraud. When that didn't work, I punched myself in the head - _ow_ \- but I still didn't wake up.

The goddamned murderous sorcerer was _asleep_.

I sat back and stared. Somewhere in the back of my head, a solitary brain cell was dancing the can-can and hitting itself in the head in the hopes that once it woke up, its owner would be on the floor (inevitable) next to a comfortable bed, in a safe place one might even be able to call 'home'.

There was a distance of roughly three meters between me and Potential Murder. I decided to keep it that way. The dragonsprite from earlier circled around the tree, pausing occasionally to chitter patronisingly at me in Squeak, Squeak, Buzz. She eventually settled on Horus' shoulder, nestling herself in the blue fabric and nipping curiously at a strand of black hair.

Gods, but he did look young when he wasn't killing anything. I supposed the layers of blood were a little misleading. If I didn't know this guy, I'd swear he was a perfectly innocent person who just happened to be lost in the Nether.

What a horrifying thought.

By this time, the heat was starting to eat through my skull and disturb my already disaster-stricken brain cells. I situated myself in the shade at the other side of the tree.

Sleep came easily in the snug, fuzzy heat.

* * *

The Arcopolis had a myriad of bells, all of which tolled at midday and midnight, and all at exactly different times. Which made noon and midnight living hell on the Overworld for anyone in a fifty-mile radius who wasn't stone deaf. The noonday pandemonium was usually started by the deep, sonorous tolling of the imperious gold bell on the Speaker's Tower, but sometimes the Felicity on the highest spire of the ACIS (Arcopolis Central Institution of Sorcerers) beat the Speaker's Bell by several hours later, while being exactly on time. Many a bright student wizard had tried to make sense of the confusing spacial-temporal spell that was the bell's power source, and exactly the same number of wizards had failed miserably. It was generally accepted that only the Gods understood the reasoning behind this mechanism, and even then, not much of it.

The long pure note emitting from the Singing Bell on the Grace Tower was suddenly and prematurely strangled by a very loud silence. The Necromancers' silver clapperless Ghost Bell had finally gotten into its act. Each ring blasted a wave of silence across the Arcopolis, though between the ghost rings one could still hear snatches of the other bells' clamour. The Necromancers had very pointedly primed their bell to be late in an effort to cut off the worst of the aural chaos.

The Necromatrix did not hear any of this. His chambers had been soundproofed thoroughly by a trusted wizard whose life was at too much risk to try hiding any nasty little surprises in the room, not that they wouldn't have tried. Most magicians would eat their own boots for a chance to off a high ranking sorcerer, not to mention the leader of a whole faction.

A ghost dropped an envelope on his ebony table and bowed. The Necromatrix sliced it open neatly with a dagger and shook out its contents.

He bent his head over a piece of seemingly blank paper. His hood was off, strands of black hair carefully shepherded to fall over his otherworldly purple demon's eye. His other eye, coloured an ordinary unassuming grey, returned to the blank page as he dismissed the ghost. He took a clean quill from a drawer and very carefully, pricked a finger with it and let a drop of crimson fall to the white page.

The drop of red sank into the page. Within seconds, ink swirled out across the previously blank page and clustered into neat strings of letters, scrawled onto the paper in a thin, spidery handwriting-

"A blood coded letter from one of your informants? Interesting."

Calmly, the Necromatrix folded the letter neatly in half, obscuring the writing from view. He threw it carelessly onto his table and turned to face the newcomer.

"You seem to enjoy intruding on my privacy." He noted coolly. "Care to tell me why?"

The Firelord shrugged. Leaning against a wall, she held up an obsidian arrowhead on a leather cord. "Hey, you did grant me unrestricted access to your tower."

"That does not mean you can come and bother me whenever your whims takes you." The Necromatrix folded his arms. "I do not invade _your_ private quarters when I fancy a cup of tea."

"Well, I'm not saying you couldn't." The Firelord said, smiling. "You will go blind eventually if you see nothing but this disgusting black all day." She gestured carelessly at the midnight walls.

"I rather like the colour, actually." The Necromatrix said quietly. "I find brilliant reds and oranges a little overly pretentious."

The Firelord shrugged, unperturbed, the movement seemingly magnified by her red flame-patterned trench coat. "I think you'd look good in dark red."

The Necromatrix frowned at his table. "I think not. Dark red is not a colour I want to wear again. Besides, I'd assume you are not here to natter about my clothing choices?"

"You assume correctly." The Firelord smiled thinly. "Our dear Zacheus has been up to no good again, I'm afraid."

The Necromatrix sighed through his nose. There had never been good news when the Firelord chose to visit personally. Something had driven her out of her towers in such a decrepit state that she had not thought twice before heading straight for the headquarters of the leader of another faction, which was not a very intelligent thing to do in a place where poisoned floorboards and surprise unplanned skydiving were daily occurrences. Not that she displayed anything but her normal cool amusement, of course. That was a survival requirement.

"What has he done now?"

The Firelord lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you'd have noticed, what with your little spy operation and all. The Runemaster has been across the city, sketching his little circles in the nooks and crannies of alleyways and such. I doubt he's making an effort for the public good. The sneaky bastard's up to something."

The Necromatrix shrugged. "He's always up to something. Fish swim, humans breathe, Zacheus plots. We would be hypocrites if we were to accuse him of suspicious, unlawful behaviour." He pinched the black fabric of his cloak absentmindedly. "I seem to have collected quite the belt of skulls myself, no pun intended."

"Yes, I am well aware of that." They were both silent for a moment. "However, I am led to believe his currents plans may bring harm to _us_."

"He's always plotting to kill us off." The Necromatrix said caustically. "He's been plotting to kill off the Council since the our third school year at ACIS. The pompous fool bought an Fizzling Lightsneat in a glass cage to draw his idiotic blueprints for porcupine floorboards and long range acid launchers and other such nonsense at night. I never did get any sleep. It was by pure luck alone that I made it out of ACIS before I died of sleep deprivation."

The Firelord opened her mouth, worked her jaw in silence for a bit, and shut it again. "You were in the same grade in ACIS? You were _roommates_?"

"Oh yes." The Necromatrix said sardonically. "It was quite the unforgettable experience, I assure you. Certainly not one I'd recommend. Zacheus was rather imaginative when it came to the cause and times of death while making his plans. I suspect my influence had a part to play in this. He had not designed a single deathtrap before I arrived on scene."

The Firelord made an incredulous face. "But he's thirty-seven! And you look..." She bent down a little and squinted. "... Fourteen."

"Half-demon." The Necromatrix reminded her. "My mother wasn't called immortal because she used a lot of beauty products."

The Firelord scowled and shook her head. "I think we're getting a little off-subject here. Anyway, back to the topic. I suspect he's trying to link his circles up into one megacircle. Citywide. I, myself, don't like the idea of having another faction's magic in my sector one bit. Anything Zacheus has that can give him an advantage in my own territory is strictly a no-go."

"I've had reports of him up the Grace Tower and all along the Shadowlight Road." The Necromatrix noted. The Shadowlight road started in the Aether sector and ended in the Nyx sector, precisely cutting the Arcopolis in half. The Grace Tower was at the outermost point of the Sky sector. Draw a line between them, and you get... almost a perfect compass. All but missing the north point.

"He'll need to go to the Iron Crown next." The Necromatrix murmured. "If he hasn't been already."

The Firelord bit her lip. "I've got a team of tracers after him. It's hard to Trace in a place with so many magicians, though. Anyway-" She shook her head. "I've spent too much time here already. I have to go now. I'll drop by if I get anything new."

"Before you leave," The Necromatrix spoke just as she reached for the doorknob. "Would you like a look at the report I just received?" He held out the letter to her.

The Firelord looked at it for a moment and shook her head. "I'll trust you to make sense of it. You'll fill me in later?"

The Necromatrix nodded silently.

"Well, then. See you later."

She left the door open when she walked out. The Necromatrix sighed. He would have excommunicated a lesser magician for doing that.

* * *

 **This chapter is a little short.**

 **I've been getting serious cases of writer's block recently, which is why I've been driven back here. Admittedly, the writing has not been going so well.**

 **(Cue scream of frustration)**

 **Anyway, the chapters will unfortunately remain quite few and far between, as my nonexistent muse has yet to respond to any of my requests /hysterical prayers.**

 **Well, good thing is, the holidays are coming up. Bad thing is, I am going on a holiday. So yes, no updates for at least another month. Sorry again.**

 **(#I tried to end on a positive note but it didn't work)**

 **-Nano**


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